Atonement

Synopsis: An attorney represents the inventor of a spanking machine in a dispute with a strange cult that practices corporal punishment rituals.

Atonement
by Rollin Hand
I have always liked thrillers. I read a lot of pulp fiction and I thought--I
wonder if I can do that? So I decided to write a novel--for spanking
enthusiasts. This is, therefore, a novel. It takes place in the same time period
as CERTIFICATE OF CORRECTION and might be seen as loosely, a continuation of
that story with some of the same characters. My namesake is an attorney, a sole
practitioner in a small Ohio town.

Atonement Chapter 1
"He won't be back today. I don't know if he'll be in tomorrow, either."
I heard this exchange just as I opened my office door. It was Jane, my secretary
on the phone. She heard me and looked up, startled. I mouthed 'who?' and she
said "just a minute" and put her on hold.
"Her name is Jessica Mason. I don't like the sound of her voice. It's too
sultry. She's probably selling something. I'm telling her you are not here."
"Jane, put her through right now! We'll discuss this some more later."
I shot her a sharp look and headed for the inner office. I picked up the phone.
"This is Rollin Hand, can I help you?"
"Oh, Mr. Hand, your secretary said you were out." Jane was right. It was a young
sultry voice with a Southern flavor.
"She was a little, ah, confused about my schedule. How can I help you?"
"Yes, my name is Jessica Mason. You were referred to me by a friend of my step
daughter Libby, an Allison Carter. They are sorority sisters at the university."
Oh, yeah. Allison. It had been nearly 6 months now since the incident in St
Johns . The girls had finished out the year back at
UVA. I had talked to Aunt Linnea and had received a card from Erin thanking me
for my help. Allison had signed the card too with a note that suggested she'd
like to see me if I ever came to Virginia. I had been too busy though. Harriet
and I were exploring setting up a law practice. I wanted to stay in the US, she
wanted the islands. It looked like we might compromise on Florida.
"Allison is a fine young lady."
"She speaks highly of you, Mr hand. Anyway I'm calling for my husband, Henry.
Henry is a consulting engineer and an inventor. He has been working on an
invention in secret, but Henry was contacted by a company that he does some work
for, and they seem to know all about it. We don't know how. They want all the
rights to it. Henry has patents pending, but that's a secret too. Henry wrote
the patents himself. We need someone to advise us about this..."
In years past I had once done IP work as it's now called--on the litigation
side. I was a registered patent attorney and knew this stuff, but I hadn't
touched a patent in years. Burned out on it early on.
"I haven't done patent work in quite awhile Mrs Mason."
"It's Jessica, and we know. But what we need now is someone to speak for us with
this company, to negotiate."
"Who is the company?" I asked.
"They are called Corpun, Inc."
This triggered a memory. Oh, yeah. They were one of the new breed of
corporations getting into corrections. They made equipment and ran boot camps
and prisons on behalf of states and counties on a contract basis. Now with the
new emphasis on reeducation and corporal punishment for non-violent offenses,
they were getting into the business of setting up and running correctional
centers, as well as making "correctional devices". They were in a business
competing with some big players, too. With every county and city flocking to
embrace corporal punishment as an alternative to building prisons and jails, it
was inevitable that companies like Gates Correctional and Nike Prison Industries
would form. Gates Correctional was a spin off of one of the "Baby Bills" formed
in the wake of the Microsoft breakup. Some wags called it "Microhard". I hadn't
heard much about Corpun.
"I might be willing to take this on, er, Jessica, but you didn't tell me--what
is this invention that your husband made?"
"Oh didn't I say, Mr Hand? It's a spanking machine."
Why was I not surprised? It had to happen. A spanking machine. A limber strap
and elbow grease were not good enough. Technology marches forward. "Well, Mrs
Mason...er, Jessica, that is most intriguing, but I need a lot more
information."
"We know, Mr Hand..."
"Call me Rollin."
"Ok, Rollin. We would like for you to come to Charlottesville and see first
hand. Henry teaches Electrical Engineering at the University. We live there.
We'll pay your expenses, of course."
I agreed. We talked about logistics for a few moments more. I would catch a
plane to Reagan and hop a commuter to Charlottesville. That done, my attention
turned to Jane.
"Jane, I would like to speak with you--and bring your book."
Her demerit book, that is. Since her first transgression that had led to the
spanking in the office, we had agreed that she would keep a book. Errors would
be noted and an accounting duly conducted each Friday afternoon at closing time.
Oddly enough it was Jane who suggested this system. "I'd rather just have my
fanny tanned to keep me focused than to have you mad at me, boss." I had told
her if that's the way she wanted it, then...ok.
Jane entered and stood at my desk, book in hand. She looked contrite.
"You can write down 5, no, 10 demerits for almost costing me a client. You are
not to make judgements about who will or won't be routed to me. The only
screening you should do is get rid of the salemen and the ones I specifically
tell you about. Sultry voice, indeed."
Jane looked chagrined. "I'm sorry boss, but you're right, and 10 ticks it is,"
she said opening the book and making a note. "Ah boss, we should get started a
little early today. It's been a bad week. I have 36 demerits with that 10."
"36?" I said. That was a lot. That meant 36 stinging licks with an 18" ruler
across Jane's nicely rounded rump, which would be quite bare at the time. I
found the ruler to be perfect for the job. It was flexible and stingy and got
the point across without bruising. Jane in fact, needed her Friday afternoon
lickings. She had a boyfriend, Roger. But Roger was far too nice to give her
what she craved, so I had become her surrogate disciplinarian. Roger, though,
was the ultimate beneficiary of our correctional sessions. He probably wondered
why he had such a passionate Jane on his hands on Friday evenings.
"We'll shut down the phones at 4:30." Jane nodded and unconsciously smoothed the
back of her skirt, perhaps in an attempt to reassure her cheeky butt that it
wouldn't be so bad. The skirt was short and tight and emphasized the rounded
swells of her delectable fanny.
At 4:30 on the dot Jane appeared, book in hand. She opened it. "I recounted,
boss. It's really 40, not 36. I'm, ah, ready for my correction now."
I could see her hardened nipples through her blouse. Although Jane's spankings
stung, she was powerfully aroused by them. It must be the act of submission to a
commanding male, I theorized. Whatever it was, what was about to happen in that
otherwise drab office on a sunny Friday afternoon when everyone else was
thinking about weekend golf games, camping, or gardening. This was something
Jane needed, no, craved. And she was going to get it.
I put her in the corner and told her to lift her skirt. That took some tugging
along with a delicious little shimmy. Her nicely rounded nates were covered by
diaphonous black panties. A garter belt and hose, black of course, completed the
set. I let her wait for a few moments while I finished up a thing or two, then I
got up and dragged a chair over in front of my desk. I sat down and grabbed the
ruler.
"Let's get this over with, Jane. Come here."
"Yes, boss." She approached from my left with mincing steps and stretched
herself over my lap, naughty girl style. The view from my angle was
breathtaking. But, there was work to be done. I slipped my fingers into the
waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips in response and I tugged them
down. Her legs were straight, toes on the floor. Her hands supported her on the
other side. This arched her buttocks beautifully. I knew that before we were
done, her knees would buckle and she would drum her toes on the floor,
squealing. I tapped her fanny with the ruler. She gave a little wriggle at the
feel of the wooden ruler on the exposed flesh.
"You understand what this is for, right?" I said, tapping the pertly presented
seat as I spoke.
"Yes boss--my mistakes--and this afternoon."
"Especially this afternoon, Jane." I gripped the ruler. The ruler, it seems to
me, is perfect for this. It is light, springy and delivers a satisfying thwack!
The sensation for the receipient is a sharp sting, and a number of these merge
into a hot glow, like you had backed into the campfire. Well, Jane was due for a
roasting so I decided to get to it.
Thwack!...thwack!...thwack!...whap!...whap!...I smacked the rippling cheeks with
brisk wristy strokes. It didn't take long for Jane to become vocal.
"Ow...yeow, boss...ooh....I'm sorry....I promise ....please, yeoch!" The
spanking went on. I smacked her fanny with a steady rhythym. She drummed her
toes on the carpet, making her ass jiggle as the swats rained down. I spanked
from the crest of her sit spot to the juncture of buttocks and thighs. The early
rectangular red bands caused by the ruler's impact merged into a tomato red
glow. Toward the end her yelps became a steady chorus of
"Ohh...ooh...ooh...ooh...ooh" as the ruler relentlessly thwacked down. She
jerked and wriggled, but did not try to escape.
Thwack!..38..thwack!...39...and thwack! 40. "There, can you behave now?" And I
helped her to her feet.
"Oooh...yes boss...ooh that really stung!" she said, rubbing her inflamed rear.
"That's the idea." I felt better now, my annoyance at her conduct dissipated by
the sound smacking of her bottom. However, another condition had popped up.
"Er, boss," she said, eyeing my groin, which gave away my state of arousal, "do
you want me to take care of that?"
Part of our weekly ritual involved sex. Not always, and no fucking since she had
started going out with Roger, but I would frequently relieve her manually and
she liked fellatio. Sometimes there was both.
"You may proceed," I said.
She unzipped me and pulled out my hardened shaft. She caressed it for a moment,
then, licking her lips took me into her mouth. The things she could do with her
lips and tongue! I came in jolting spasms and she greedily swallowed every drop.
"You?" I said. She shook her head.
"I need to go. You know,... Roger. I'm having him over to my apartment for
dinner."
I knew. Lucky Roger. He won't know what hit him tonight. Yeah, she was going to
literally have him for dinner in her state. Someday I was going to have to take
the boy aside and explain his girlfriend to him, but then that would be the end
of all this. Well,...maybe later.
***************************************************************************
I arrived at Reagan and changed plans. I rented a car and drove down to
Charlottesville. The area between Alexandria and Charlottesville is hilly,
green, and pretty. Too scenic now, almost, for its bloody heritage. This is
where the Civil War was fought. Manassas, Fredericksburg, Spotsylvania, Cold
Harbour, The Wilderness. As I drove, I could imagine Lee and Jackson surveying
the ground, picking the best spot for a fight.
Henry Mason was in a fight of another sort, and Corpun was the agressor. I read
the file before I got on the plane. Corpun claimed now that they, not Henry,
owned the inventions and they wanted Henry to sign over his rights lock, stock
and barrel.
I followed the directions Jessica had given me. Henry lived on the outskirts of
Charlottesville in an impressive antebellum mansion complete with white columns
and a veranda. Not bad for a college prof. I half expected to see them sipping
mint juleps as I drove up the circular driveway that wound around a
fountain--complete with nymphs.
Nor was I prepared for Jessica Mason. She was in her early 30's. Obviously
Jessica was wife no. 2 and not Libby's mother. She was a tall, voluptuous woman
with almond shaped green eyes and long flaming red hair, parted to one side and
tucked under where it fell below her shoulders, like a 40's movie star. Veronica
Lake with red hair. Or Julianne Moore maybe--only more voluptuous. I imagine she
caused quite a stir at faculty teas. She answered the door in jodpurs that were
skin tight across her curvy bottom. Her ample breasts strained the simple white
cotton blouse she wore. The riding crop was a nice touch.
She invited me in with that sultry Southern voice.
"Thank you for coming Mr Hand, er Rollin. Henry is on the back porch."
I followed the gentle sway of her jouncy rear as she led me to the porch.
I was not prepared for Henry Mason. He was in his 60's, easily twice Jessica's
age. Henry was was a robust bear of a man with close cropped gray hair. He
walked with the aid of a walking stick as it seemed he had a limp on his left
side. How did he handle the smoldering bundle of femininity that was Jessica?
"It is a pleasure to meet you Mr Hand," he said warmly. " I trust you are not
too tired from your trip."
I assured him that I was fine. A few more pleasantries were exchanged and we got
to the purpose of my trip.
"I did some consulting work for Corpun. They make equipment for secure
facilities like prisons. I designed mechanical-electrical systems and the
software that ran them. Ah, things like automated locking systems, video
surviellance, computer-controlled lockdown facilities, that sort of thing.
I did this work for them, turned over the designs and thought that was that.
Well, it wasn't. They came to me several weeks ago claiming that my discipline
machines were theirs.
"You see, I am also a free-lance inventor. Two events sparked my interest in
conceiving what I believe is my most valuable invention, the one that Corpun now
wants. The first is my beautiful wife here, Jessica."
Jessica beamed. My observation was that there was genuine affection between
them.
"The second is the revolution in corrections that has occurred as a result of
our political climate. When President Limbaugh and Vice President Schlesinger
advocated a 'return to the woodshed' it struck a chord in the American psyche.
As you know many state and local governments adopted corporal punishment for
entire classes of non-violent offenses. School districts as well have adopted
paddling policies to deal with misbehavior. One problem that I saw was that
punishments mandated by the state should be impartially meted out, and...they
should be the same for the same offense. Instead, what do we have? Some
corrections officials wield strap or cane correctly, skillfully, some do not.
Some are too severe while others too soft. Do you see my point?"
I assured him that I did.
"So I sensed a need. And I came up with a machine that dispenses discipline,
fairly, efficiently, and most of all, uniformly. All of those convicted and
sentenced will be treated the same. The machine has no emotions, no slow days,
no lapses in attention or coordination. And it is highly effective as Jessica
will testify," he said with a chuckle. Jessica blushed but flashed a naughty
grin. I couldn't understand this. Did he test the machine on her? And did she
like it?
"I sense your puzzlement, Mr Hand, but all will be explained. Let me be frank.
Before the accident that left me partially crippled and impaired in certain
other departments, Jessica and I were avid, well, lifestylers. You may be more
familiar with the term 'swinger'."
I said I was.
"Before my accident, Jessica and I were very active in this scene. My injury
left me unable to... ah, perform as it were, so I set out to devise a machine
that would take care of Jessica's needs--all of them. You see Jessica has a need
for discipline as well as sex. Perhaps we should adjourn to my lab where I can
show you." Jessica looked at Henry expectantly. He motioned in the direction of
the door.
"After you, my dear," said Henry gently but firmly. Jessica seemed flustered,
her eyes wide, but I caught a trace of excitement there too. We followed her out
of the room. I tried not to stare but I was mesmerized by the sway of her
luscious hips, the ovals of her bottom straining the fabric of the tight
jodpurs.

ATONEMENT Chapter 2
I followed them both to a locked door that led to the basement.
"I have the key and I keep it on me at all times. No one comes in here without
my permission," Henry explained as he unlocked the door. "Please follow me.
Watch your step."
It was a large basement. At one end was a workbench with tools, computers and
test equipment. In the center of the room was a contraption fed by wires and
hydraulic hoses. At the center was a low cube with a padded top and an inclined
pad below the top on either side. A frame supported an upright enclosure
attached to the right side of the bench next to the padded top, and from the
enclosure an arm extended to the side. The arm had two swivel joints in it. I
would have called them an "elbow" and a "wrist". To the rear of the apparatus
was a console with a control panel and what were apparantly optical sensors of
some kind pointed at the bench. On the wall several implements fitted with
attachments hung on hooks. There were several paddles of various sizes and a few
thin rods.
"This is the junior model of my machine, " said Henry proudly. "As you can see
the business part resembles an armless chair with a padded seat. The person to
be punished lies across that padded top and is buckled in with straps. It's
rather like being positioned across someone's lap. Think of it as a mechanical
chair with an arm extending out of the chair back. The arm has two swivel joints
and can move vertically as well as around an axis of rotation so that the angle
of the striking implement can vary from up-down to 45 degrees to straight
horizontal. Precision, fast release hydraulic cylinders and servos control the
arm motion."
Henry seated himself at the console and flipped some switches. A crt display
flickered to life showing the back of the spanking bench. "Jessica, if you
please, assume the position, my dear."
"Oh, Henry, no not in front of..."
"Right now dear," said Henry with a smile, but the tone of his voice said he
meant it. "She overspent the credit card again," Henry explained turning to me,
"so I guess a little demonstration is in order."
Jessica shot us nervous smile and approached the bench. She lay across the bench
thus presenting her gorgeous rump which spread and filled the CRT screen. Henry
flipped another switch and Jessica's ass took on the appearance of a 3D
topological image. Since she was partially bent at the waist, her bottom was
nicely presented without being stretched taut.
"The ah, target area is being scanned by a laser. This 3D representation will be
loaded into memory. The mechanical arm is calibrated according to this image so
that when the program is run, the strikes of the implement we choose are 100%
accurate. The software accepts commands from this console here." Another screen
displayed a windows-type interface with toolbars and dialog boxes. Henry
continued, "We can program force--light, medium or hard--repitition rate--up to
4 spanks per second--, dwell time--like a fast smack and release, or, swat and
hold it there for a few seconds, and combinations of all of the above. In fact I
have devised several canned programs for different types of spankings. For
example, a disciplinary paddling might call for 10 hard licks spaced evenly
apart--maybe 20 seconds or so, with a medium dwell time. A brisk spanking for a
minor offense might be 2 minutes of repetitive spanking with hard slow smacks
alternating with lighter rapid flurries. In the production model the operator
will be able to program his or her own. The arm is programmed to move both
vertically and horizontally to cover the target area in a random fashion so that
the implement does not always strike the same place or at the same angle."
"Amazing," I said. But it was hard to concentrate on the technical stuff. My
eyes were on Jessica's luscious rear. The fabric of the jodpurs was stretched
tight across her magnificent behind and I could see the panty line of small
triangular bikini panties through the material.
"Now here," said Henry, rising, and gesturing toward the wall, "are implements
that may be attached to the machine. Each one has a code that is entered and the
software calibrates the machine specifically for its use.
Ah, I think this will do," said Henry selecting a rectangular paddle made of
some dark synthetic material. "This is a rather light springy composite, just
the thing for correcting a naughty wife who overspends the credit card," he
chuckled.
The paddle clicked into a holder and locked into place. Henry patted Jessica's
rear and drew a strap across the small of her back and buckled it. Another strap
went across her legs. Her arms hung straight down gripping handgrips. Henry sat
down at the console again. He pulled up a file that said "Discipline2.exe" and
hit "enter". The machinery started to hum. The arm moved in and pressed the flat
of the paddle firmly against Jessica's rump. She flinched at the contact.
"It's automatically calibrating the servos with the laser rangefinder," said
Henry. "The machine now knows the exact position and contour of Jessica's
behind." A new screen sprang up, evidently a user interface. There were all
sorts of controls, rather like a virtual CD player. Henry positioned the cursor
over a green button.
"Are you ready Jessica?"
"Oh...yes darling, but please not too hard."
"Only as you deserve, dear. Here we go." And Henry clicked the mouse. The arm
pivoted smoothly back, then quick as a flash it rushed forward planting a hearty
smack! on Jessica's tightly presented bottom. Jessica gasped. A second later it
repeated. Smack! And again. Smack! And again. Smack! The paddle spanked
Jessica's seat at two second intervals making dry smacking sounds as it popped
against the generously full rounded contours of Jessica's rump.
"Oooh, Henry, it's set too high! Ow...ow...ow!"
"Maybe next time, sweetheart, you will watch the spending?"
"Ow! Ouch! Yes, Henry," she squealed, trying to wriggle.
The machine was certainly efficient...and smooth. It spanked with a fluid
motion, very natural. And the spanks were spread around. The arm made continuous
minor adjustments in position to randomly spank the entire surface area of
Jessica's ass from the backs of her thighs to the crowns of her swelling cheeks.
Her butt wobbled with the sharp impacts of the paddle even through the material
of the jodpurs. Jessica had little room to wiggle, but she tried.
After about 30 smacks, the machine stopped. Henry rose and unbuckled the straps
allowing a flushed Jessica to rise and rub her bottom vigorously.
"Well, what do you think, sir?" boomed Henry, his arm around Jessica, consoling
her.
"Er, very impressive, Henry. I can see the potential."
"And that's not all," said Henry, who walked in his limping gait toward a larger
structure hidden under a dropcloth. "Shall we show him your special machine,
dear?"
"Oh, Henry, I don't know...". Jessica was busily rubbing the lush contours of
her seat. She was flustered but there was an underlying tremor of excitement in
her voice.
"Come now, Jessica, we must disclose all to Mr Hand if he is to help us."
Henry pulled on a cable which lifted the dropcloth. Underneath was a similar
machine, only larger. This one had a central padded bench to support the upper
body. There were two kneeler pads separated by a V-shaped gap which would be
between the legs. A rail supported a rectangular box and extended to the rear
through the "V". The box apparantly slid along the rail. The top of the bench,
right at the point where the pelvis would rest, had a small rounded pad with
what looked like rubber nubbins on it. There were two towers housing the motors
and servos, one on each side. Each had an arm.
"Now darling, if you will disrobe, we can proceed."
"Oh, Henry, please...it's so embarrassing." But even as she said it, Jessica's
fingers toyed with the buttons on her blouse.
"Jessica, you will strip immediately." Jessica shuddered at Henry's commanding
tone and lowered her eyes.
I had the feeling that this was a delicious game the two of them played from
time to time for the benefit of themselves as well as for visitors. Jessica
unbuttoned the blouse and took off her bra, freeing her tremelous breasts which
were both high set and full. She unzipped the black boots on the side and
stepped out of them. The jodpurs were next. She turned around to take her pants
down. They were so tight she had to wiggle her hips a bit to tug them down. Sure
enough she was wearing scanty bikini panties under the pants. She was lovely to
behold. Long legs and a slender waist only emphasized the swelling cheeks of her
sumptious rear end which was a hot pink as a result of the spanking. Clad only
in the skimpy panties she turned to the front, her hands held demurely across
her breasts hiding her nipples.
"The panties too, Jessica. Everything."
With a gasp that caught in her throat, Jessica obeyed her husband's command and
slid the panties down, revealing red pubic hair. Then she stood with one hand
attempting to shield her crotch and the other her breasts. Neither was hiding
much.
"Assume the position, Jessica."
Jessica turned and I followed the lascivious undulations of her ass as she
walked to the apparatus and knelt down on it, thrusting her hindquarters high in
the air and spreading her legs apart. Henry drew straps across her back and the
calves of her legs. She shivered at his touch as he patted her rump when he was
done. Then Henry selected two implements from the wall. One appeared to be a
leather paddle, oval in shape, the other was a slender wand. Henry fastened one
to each arm of the machine.
"You will notice now that with this machine Jessica's hands are not bound. They
could be, but I allow my darling to use these controls for her own pleasure."
What Henry indicated was a small console on the front of the bench with some
knobs and buttons on it. "Where the first device is purely disciplinary, this
version can give pleasure as well. First, however, Jessica's discipline is not
yet finished."
Henry sat at the console and operated the mouse. The machine hummed and the
leather paddle arm moved back. Henry clicked again and the leather paddle began
to deliver a rapid flurry of spanks to Jessica's jiggling ass, landing sometimes
on opposite sides, sometimes on one side several times in a row. Jessica bucked
and squealed. "Owwww! Henry! Please! Ow! Ow! Ow!"
The paddle stopped and withdrew. The opposite arm which held a flexible switch
or wand drew back.
Swissh...whack! Swissh....whack! The arm whipped down on Jessica's reddened
bottom cheeks at 10 second intervals.
"Yeoww!...Ooooh!....Ahhh!...." Jessica yelped with each whippy stroke.
As the machine continued the whipping, Henry turned to me, seemingly oblivious
to his wife's distress.
"You see, I could go for coffee and the machine would continue, thoroughly,
relentlessly. The result--a well-punished miscreant. Don't you agree dear?" he
said turning back to the beautiful penitent before him whose buttocks now
sported a collection of fine red weals.
Jessica had received maybe 20 licky strokes with the switch when Henry stopped
it.
"Now I want you to notice something. Jessica is breathing heavily and
perspiring. She is also aroused as you can tell by looking between her legs.
Don't be embarrassed, Jessica is quite the exhibitionist."
Indeed, I could see the pouting folds of her vagina glistening with moisture.
"Now I will turn the controls over to Jessica," said Henry, selecting a command
from a dialog box.
Jessica had pushed a button and a humming sound could be heard.
"That is a vibrator in that small knob at the top of the bench under her
pelvis," explained Henry as Jessica started to rock back and forth, moaning
softly. "She can press her clitoris against that knob and control both frequency
and intensity. If she wishes she can control the paddle or the switch as well."
Just as he said this, Jessica pushed a button that caused the leather paddle to
smack her behind sharply 6 times. She shuddered and groaned, and ground her mons
against the knob writhing in a circular motion. She appeared to be in the throes
of ecxtasy.
She pushed another button and the purpose behind the strange box on the rail
became apparant. A lid unhinged and slowly a life-sized dildo began to emerge.
The 3d view on the monitor focussed on Jessica's moist slit. The dildo moved
forward along its track until it was positioned at the entrance to her vagina.
As it rose and slid forward, Jessica shifted herself slightly so that the hard
member slid easily into her wet sheath. Jessica moaned and bucked her hips as
the artificial penis began a reciprocating motion simulating a vigorous fucking.
Jessica emitted animalistic noises and writhed in shameless arousal as the dildo
and vibrator did their work. From time to time the paddle would deliver a flurry
of smacks or the switch would descend. Jessica appeared lost in a sexual
delierium. Spurred on by thwacks of the paddle and licks from the springy
switch, Jessica willingly impaled herself on the pulsating dildo and rode it
with a frenzied motion. The thrashing of her body, skewered on the implements of
sweet torture signalled an approaching orgasm. When it came she screamed with
pleasure as her body stiffened. When she stopped and slumped, limp, Henry shut
off the machine. She was soaked in sweat. The dildo was covered in her juices
and the musky odor of sex filled the room.
"I have to monitor her. She would go all night. This machine is highly
addictive, you see."
I could see the problem--a pleasure machine that one could control. One could
approach climax and call for application of the rod to slow things down, then
build up again. Or program it for a light spanking to intensify the sexual
sensations from the dildo and vibrator--or, the combinations were endless.
Henry released Jessica and brought her a robe. We left her to compose herself
and returned to Henry's study.
"What I am puzzled about is how Corpun knew I even had this machine," he said
shaking his head. "I certainly won't give it to them as they are demanding I do.
I don't want to sell to them, but I might license them if the terms are good
enough."
"How did they find out? Who else knew about this but you and Jessica? Your
daughter?" I inquired.
"Libby? No, not her. She has no interest in my work. She's a sweet child but I
am sad to say, somewhat flighty. She has never been the least bit curious about
what lies in the basement. To her it's just daddy's stuffy old gadgets."
"What about servants? Workmen?"
"I never let anyone go down there. It's always locked."
But I was thinking it might be interesting to talk to Libby. That could be
arranged since Allison was her sorority sister.
"I would like for you to talk to Corpun's lawyers," continued Henry. "See what
they really want--buy me some time. And try to find out how they knew about my
invention."
I told Henry I would drive back to DC and arrange a meeting as soon as possible.
I also told him that I would like to speak to his daughter. "Sometimes kids will
tell another adult things that they would not tell a parent."
Henry agreed with my assessment but added that he didn't think Libby knew
anything.
As I left to drive back, I chanced to look up. Behind a parted curtain was
Jessica's face flashing me an inviting smile. Part of a shapely leg was visible
below. I could only think, what a family! What could Libby be like?

Atonement Ch 3
I drove back to Washington that afternoon. Corpun's attorneys, Gropes and Ray,
had an office on K street. I was slated to see them the next day. But first I
wanted to see Libby, so I called Allison at the Kappa house at UVA. Allison came
on the phone. She was genuinely excited to hear from me. She told me that Libby
had left earlier on a camping trip and was not expected back until Monday. It
was Thursday. That gave me a weekend to cool my heels if I wanted to see her.
"But I'd like to see you," said Allison. "I have something I need to talk to you
about. Can we meet tommorrow night? I'll drive up."
That sounded mysterious, but I agreed. After all who wouldn't want to spend some
time with Allison? She was a beautiful young woman with blonde hair, wide blue
eyes, and a figure that was lush and promising. Abundant curves in all the right
places. She projected sexuality, but with an aura of shy innocence that was an
instant turn-on for any man who came within her orbit. And I was old enough to
be her father.
I told her sure, meet me in the bar of the Mayflower Hotel at 7:00. I'd be glad
to help her any way I could.
*****************************************************************
The next day I met with Martin J Creel, Corpun's attorney.
"I know your record, Mr Hand, looked you up on Lexis---quite a few court
victories for you a few years back in the national patent arena."
"That was a long time ago," I said. "I have a much lower key practice now. I
just do general practice, a little of this and a little of that."
"Well let me be frank about this, then. Our position is that we own Henry
Mason's invention. It was part of his work for my client, but after the contract
was done he refused to sign the invention rights papers we had prepared."
"It wasn't part of the deal," I countered, "and how did you even know about his
invention, anyway?"
Creel was indignant. "Are you suggesting some underhandedness by Corpun? I can
assure you that those designs came into our hands voluntarily. Mason turned over
discs with all the design information on them to our chief engineer. What he
won't do now is assign the patents to us. We need those to go into production.
Our customers, various state governments do not want to be faced with charges of
patent infringement from Henry Mason."
Something didn't sound right here, but I was more interested in the source of
the design data.
"Who is this engineer? Henry tells me the designs were secret."
"It's all well documented. Oliver Brussard is Corpun's director of engineering."
"Then I want to talk to Brussard."
"He's on vacation in the Carribean. He's unavailable." Interesting...Creel knew
exactly where he was. Conveniently out of town.
"Then I think our meeting is at an end."
Creel huffed about injunctions and litigation and made it sound as if Corpun was
ready to go to war to secure the rights to Henry's invention. I needed to see
Henry again, in view of Creel's allegations.
I called Henry later from the hotel room. He told me he had given Brussard
discs, but that they contained only data on the designs of the security systems
he had made for Corpun. "The machines I showed you were not on those discs," he
said emphatically. "Oliver Brussard is lying."
So we had a mystery. How did Corpun get the designs? Why is Brussard so
conveniently unavailable? Did someone close to Henry betray him?
************************************
I pondered this as I waited for Allison in the bar of the Mayflower. When she
walked in, all male (and a few female) heads turned. She was wearing a little
black cocktail dress that molded itself to every lovely curve of her body. The
short hem showed off her beautifully sculpted legs and the top revealed a
generous amount of cleavage. I stood up to greet her and she gave me big hug.
"It's so great to see you again, Uncle Rollin...can I call you Uncle Rollin? I
know you're Erin's uncle but after, well...everything I feel like you're mine
too." She was gushing nervously.
"Slow down there, Allison. Of course you can call me Uncle Rollin if you wish.
And how is my favorite niece?"
"She's fine. She sends her love."
That was good to hear. After the harrowing ordeal these girls had gone through 6
months earlier, it was good to see that they had rebounded with no lasting
trauma.
After ordering drinks for us both I told her she could help me by telling me a
few things about one of her sorority sisters, and I thanked her for recommending
me to Henry Mason. She said she had to show me something first. She was a bit
nervous. Could we go up to my room? I said "sure" and we proceeded to the
elevators. When we got to my room I took off my jacket and turned to her.
"Now what's all this about, Allison?"
"It's this," she said handing me an envelope. "Go ahead. Open it and read it."
The note purported to be from a Madeline Smythe, Student Advisor, history
department. The note said:
"To Whom It May Concern, This is to report that the scholastic performance of Ms
Allison Carter has been substandard for this semester. She is currently carrying
a 1.7 GPA and she stands to be on academic probation for the next term. I know
Allison is capable of better work. In my opinion she has failed to apply herself
and lacks self discipline. It is my strong recommendation that she receive a
healthy dose of discipline to put her back on task. /s/ Madeline Smythe"
"Well, Allison, I don't know what to say. Have your parents seen this?"
"No and they wouldn't care. I feel so awful. It's like I can't get going. I'm
lazy. I goof off a lot and can't seem to stop. The only good period I had was
right there when we came back from the islands and then later. You know, after
you gave Erin and me that spanking. I was industrious and I studied and worked
hard all the rest of that term." She brushed the hair back from her eyes. She
seemed about to cry. "Then last term started and I just slipped back. I just
hate myself for it and sometimes I think someone should just...well, turn me
over his knee and spank me good and hard."
You know, sometimes it really is hard to tell. Was I being seduced? Did Allison
really want punishment because of bad grades? I doubted that there was a Prof
named Madeline Smythe, or if there was that she had written this. Not many
English professors misspell "recommendation". I decided to play along. Obviously
she had gone to some trouble to create this subterfuge, and whatever her motive,
I could not think of a single good reason for refusing her.
I put on a stern face. "This is very troubling Allison. And I can see the wisdom
of your advisor's recommendation. Do you want me to do this? To give you the
discipline you apparently need?"
"Y-y-yes," Allison stammered, licking her lips and smoothing her dress with her
hands.
"Well, what should I do? Give you a good talking to? A fatherly lecture on the
importance of your studies?"
Allison took a deep breath, and lifted her head, steadying herself. "Yes, I
think y-you should tell me how lax I've been in no uncertain terms. Go ahead,
really chew me out."
"Well, Allison, you are right. And I think it's high time. You do need
discipline, just like your advisor says,...but... I can think of nothing better
in this situation than a good sound spanking," I said, rising and unbuttoning
the cuffs on my sleeves.
"You're going to s-spank me?" said Allison breathlessly, eyes wide, as she
watched me roll my sleeves up.
"That's right. Scolding just won't make an impression. So...I suggest you get
out of that dress, so it won't get wrinkled. You really need to be punished for
wasting your time and your parent's money goofing around when you should be
studying."
"Y-yes, sir," she quavered, and unzipped the little dress in back. The zipper
came down and she stepped out of it clad in a black bra and garter belt ensemble
with wispy black panties. What a vision! Her breasts were full and strained the
black bra. Her stomach was flat and her waist long and narrow. Her hips flared
outwardly setting off the tiny waist. Her bottom was full and round without
looking fat, but the cheeks were high-set and jutted back creating a distinct
overhang where her upper thighs joined her hips. The legs were lean and finely
sculpted, like a dancer's. She was clearly one of the most beautiful women I had
ever seen--especially naked.
I sat on the bed. "Come over here, Allison," I said crooking my finger.
She walked to my right side with little mincing steps. I took her by the waist
and put her over my knee. I adjusted her until her bottom was positioned
uppermost and rested my right palm on the jouncy cheeks.
"You are going to get a good sound spanking, Allison, and I hope it will teach
you to apply yourself."
"Ohh...yes Uncle Rollin, but not too hard, please?"
"Come on now Allison, you need a good tanning that you will remember well into
next term. I want you to think about this every time you are tempted to slack
off."
Allison just squirmed and emitted little mewling sounds in response.
"Now lift up a little."
Allison's body tensed. "W-why?"
"You know why. These panties are coming down. Bare fanny spankings are so much
more effective."
Allison gave an embarrassed moan but lifted up and I slipped the panties down to
her knee hollows. Her fully rounded seat was exposed to my gaze, twin white
globes that quivered expectantly as I patted each chub, testing its resilience.
Allison gave a little shiver at this intimate touch and wriggled slightly
causing her beautiful nates to jiggle sexily.
I started off with about 25 firm, deliberate smacks. Her fanny wobbled
deliciously with each one. Red hand prints stood out against the stark whiteness
of her lovely moons. She was silent except for low gasps and intakes of breath.
I was worried about the sharp smacking sound of my hand on her derriere in the
hotel room, but the sound from the TV helped mask it. I didn't say anything as I
spanked, slowly, from cheek to cheek. I wanted her to just feel the heat
gradually build up in her seat. She writhed around on my lap in response to the
steady smack! smack! smack! of my descending palm. After about 25 spanks I
stopped.
"Are you learning a good lesson in applying yourself?"
"Oooh...yesss, Uncle Rollin. Ah, it really stings," she said breathlessly.
"Good. I don't want to have to do this next term."
She gave a little shiver. "you'd come back and do this next term?" She looked at
me over her shoulder with those big doe-shaped eyes.
"Yes I would if you don't behave."
I resumed her chastisement, this time a bit harder, with brisk sharp smacks that
came in flurries. Six smacks and stop. Six spanks and stop. These spanks must
have smarted because her wriggling became more animated. I imagined Henry's
spanking machine and how effectively it had spanked Jessica. Allison started to
wriggle more and her moaning became more pronounced, especially when I reached
the end of a series of hard fast spanks. After about 3 or 4 minutes of this I
rested my palm on her ass which was now a cherry red and hot to the touch. She
was really feeling it now and my hand stung as well, but I wanted this to be
memorable. I stated spanking again, this time with very hard spaced -apart
smacks with my hand tensed and flat like a paddle.
"Are you(smack!) going to (smack!) apply yourself?" Smack! smack!
"Ow...ow...owee...yes Uncle Rollin," she yelped, twisting and bucking, but not
really trying to escape.
I decided that tears had to flow for this to be a real experience, so I stepped
up the pace and the intensity. Allison struggled to control her yelps of pain. I
think I got a little carried away because after a minute or two of intense
spanking I heard her sobbing.
"Ah...ah...I won't....I'll be good...wahhhh," she blubbed.
That, I decided, was enough.
"Ok, honey. It's over now. Here, get up," I said helping her rise.
She stood there and let loose with a good cry, rubbing her flaming hindquarters.
Then she put her arms around me and hugged me, oblivious to the fact that she
was practically naked and that I had a raging hard-on.
"Ohh...oh...woh...I'm sorry. I'll do better."
"It's ok, Allison. You've been punished now and it's over. You start with a
clean slate. The past is history."
"(snif) I guess I can tell Ms Smythe I've had a good 'talking to' from my strict
uncle," she said with the beginning of a smile.
"I guess you could say that," I said. I was not about to poke a hole in her
charade about the probably fictitious Ms Smythe.
*******************************************************
I let Allison have the room while I went back down to the bar. When Allison had
composed herself, she joined me.
"I should have brought a pillow from the room," she said jokingly, but she
winced as she sat down.
"I'm not going to say I'm sorry Allison. You needed that."
"Yes, I did, and I thank you for it...Uncle Rollin." She was breathing heavily
and blushing.
"Well..." I said, changing the subject, "Tell me about Libby Mason. What kind of
person is she?"
"Oh, Libby? She is a very sweet girl. Sort of...you know, ditsy, scatterbrained.
I hated to see her get mixed up with that Trey and his church. Trey, that's her
boyfriend. He's got her hooked on some weird church thing."
"What church is that?"
"They call themselves The Revelation Church of Atonement or something."
Hmm...I had seen storefront operations in several metropolitan areas with a logo
that had the words Revelation/Atonement in it. My memory was that it was hyped
as some sort of counseling center, or self-improvement operation.
"Do you know anything about it?"
"No. Only that she's been going to these counseling sessions with Trey. She even
tried to talk me into going when I mentioned how crummy I felt about doing so
poorly. She said they would help me lose the guilt and feel better about
myself."
"What's Trey like?"
"Oh, he's a rich kid--like me, spending Daddy's money. Maybe he feels guilty
about it. He's got a mean streak though. I don't like him. He pressured her into
going at first. But you know...she changed. She spouts this stuff about how
great it is--how you can purge your guilt for all the bad things you've ever
done, feel like a better person."
"So where did she go this weekend?"
"On a camping trip with Trey and Mary Beth Quinlan and Celeste Jensen. Trey was
going to take them to West Virginia to Monogahela. Right around Sruce Knob."
I knew the area. A remote part of the Eastern portion of the state, it was
rugged, mountainous, and wild. I'd been there before, years ago. It was still
isolated and the people who lived there clung to a way of life that had all but
disappeared. Farmers who scratched a living out of the rough mountainous soil
and the people who serviced them; these were the folks of Appalacia and small
town America--God fearing, traditional, and sometimes hostile to outsiders. I
bet that the strap and the switch still ruled in these homes, and that there
were still a few real woodsheds standing.
After dinner I reluctantly planned my goodbyes to Allison. She seemed reluctant
to go. She said she left something in the room. As we took the elevator up, she
told me how her fanny still smarted. "Oooh, it it feels so hot," she said, "but
also kind of nice, like a hot glow. It'll probably hurt tomorrow."
"Well, the idea is to remind you to work hard," I said, eyebrows raised. "You
should remember every time you sit down for awhile."
"Mmm, I will."
We got to my room and went in. She made as if she were looking for something.
"So what did you forget?" I said.
"The note. You have to sign it." I didn't recall seeing that instruction.
She stopped looking. "Oh, here it is. It was in my purse the whole time."
"Allison, it doesn't say I have to sign the note, does it?" Allison blushed
again, and stammered,"N-no. I-I just wanted to, er, thank you properly," she
said shyly.
Putting her arms around my neck she pulled me to her and gave me a kiss that was
anything but the usual uncle-niece variety. She ground her hips against me and
put her hand behind my neck, kissing me passionately. I responded by hugging her
even more tightly, and I moved my hand down to lightly massage her satiny ass.
She groaned and put her left leg in between mine rubbing it up and down against
my swollen penis that was threatening to burst from my slacks. Allison broke off
the kiss and dropped to her knees. She fumbled with my zipper but slid it down
and she reached inside to grasp my hard cock. She pulled it out and stroked it,
looking up at me with lust-filled eyes. Then I saw her face disappear and her
head bob down on my engorged organ as she gobbled it into her mouth and started
to suck greedily. She tongued the head while her fingers stroked my shaft. Then
she ran her lips up and down it. I was about to burst. I pulled her head back
and lifted her up.
For the second time that night, I watched her strip out of that little black
dress. I shucked the rest of my clothes. We tumbled into bed and I pulled her
body against mine. The feel of her firm lush breasts against my chest was
electric. I felt between her legs. The furry patch of hair was slippery wet and
she moaned as my fingers massaged her clitoris, plunging occasionally into the
hot depths of her womanhood. I parted her legs slid my rock hard penis to the
lips of her vagina. She pushed forward as I thrust in. I was engulfed by hot
tight wetness. I rolled her over to her back and started thrusting and
withdrawing in a steady, slow motion. Each time I rammed it in until our pubic
bones touched, held it there for a moment, then slid back. Then I sat back on my
heels and gripping the lush buttocks I had so soundly spanked, pulled her into
me, skewering her on my hard prick. She matched me thrust for thrust, thrashing
about wildly. We came in a shuddering climax. Hers triggered mine. Her body went
stiff and she arched her back, her vaginal walls constricting my cock. I could
no longer hold off and spewed my seed inside her, pumping furiously until the
spasms subsided.
We lay in each other's arms for a time, spent, not saying anything. Then she
said, "Ohh...I don't know what came over me, I...I..."
I put my hand to her lips. "No, stop. We both wanted this. You are a grown
woman, not a girl. Women have needs, it's ok."
"It's...it's just that the boys I know, well, they're boys. I guess I'm
attracted to someone older, like you."
"Like I said, no need to explain."
She stayed over. The next morning over breakfast we talked some more about the
Church of Atonement.
"There are these guys on campus, you know, recruiting. They wear white shirts
and ties. The girls wear long dresses, like out of The Donna Reed show or
something."
"And Trey is one of these guys?"
"Yeah, he got Libby to go to one of their centers. She kept going. After awhile
she seemed, well, different. Fired up about it. We thought it was a phase."
"Did Libby ever take Trey home to meet her parents?"
"I think she did, and I guess they liked him. I know they went out there to this
big party they had last month. Lots of my sorority sisters went. There were
faculty there, of course."
"Have you ever been to Libby's house?"
"Yes it's beautiful."
"Ever seen Prof Mason's workroom?"
"No, Libby showed me where it was but said all his work was secret, and no one
was allowed in there. She said ever since she was a kid, snooping in there was
strictly forbidden. She said her dad used to scare her by saying he kept a
spanking machine in there and that if she ever went in, it would trap her and
spank her and nobody would be there to turn it off. To us it seemed like a big
joke, but I almost think she believed it."
So Libby was fascinated by her father's workroom, and ironically, the story told
by a parent to scare a kid into obedience was true. But Libby didn't seem the
type to steal from her dad. The interesting thing though was this church she was
in. I felt that I needed to know more.
"Do you want to do some field work for me?"
Allison brightened. I was not going to shoo her off. I was going to put her to
work. "Uh, sure. I'd love to help you, Uncle Rollin."
"Ok, I'm working on Henry Mason's legal problem, but I need to know more about
this church. I can't tell you why, it's confidential. But if you would go into
one of their storefront operations and act like someone interested in them, it
might help me a lot. I'm going to do the same thing. Then we will meet back here
and compare notes at the end of the day. Ok?"
We found church centers at two separate places, one in Georgetown, the other out
Connecticut Ave, almost to Rockville. One more lingering kiss, a pat on her
fanny and we were off.

Atonement Ch 4
The storefront office of The Revelation Church of Atonement was scrunched
between an H&R Block and a Starbucks on upper Connecticut Ave. An attractive
brunette in a long dress rose to greet me.
"Hello, can I help you, Mr, ah..."
"DeForest Doohan," I said with a weak smile.
"Yes...Mr Doohan," she beamed, "how can we help you?"
"I guess I want to know more about the Church," I said trying to look
guilt-ridden. It wasn't hard.
"Well, please have a seat here and let me tell you all about us. In the Bible
the Book of Revelations makes clear that all must atone before the great
coming..."
Of who, I thought? Ghozer? It was weird right off the bat. She prattled on about
the need to atone for past misdeeds and how the Church could help one achieve
"cleansing". She talked about how we all carry this dread weight of guilt
around. Things that began in childhood, some long forgotten, and that what we
all lack is a means of purging that guilt.
"...so through a series of guilt relief sessions with our trained Confessors you
can begin to cleanse the awful load of bad feelings that you have carried since
childhood. If you progress you may wish to join us at our communal retreat
center. Our retreat center is located in beautiful natural surroundings..."
It sounded like some goofy mix of Catholic confession, psychotherapy, new age
religion and a 12 step group.
"...you would meet with a counselor of our church, called a "Confessor" to talk
about your past at first, then we can begin to map out a program for atoning for
sins. We are all sinful, Mr Doohan, and..."
"This retreat center, where is it?" I interrupted.
"Uh...it's in Goshen, West Virginia, a really lovely spot..."
Hmmm....Trey would have gone right through there with Libby and the two other
girls on the way to Spruce Knob. I'd been to Goshen, a typical small farming
town that was also the county seat.
"...and our initial sessions are inexpensive, but you must go through this phase
before you are eligible to attend one of our retreat seminars. We take all major
credit cards."
"Well, gee...I don't know. You say first I confess everything, then..."
"Yes. You must empty yourself. Totally. Every bad thing you have ever done."
"How many sessions does this take?"
"Oh it can take several weeks, perhaps months, of soul searching, but the path
to cleansing is not an easy one," she said with a serious tone.
I nodded. "I can see that. Then at the retreat center, what happens there?"
"It would not be good for us to jump ahead to that. You must be ready, first."
"Ok, well, thanks. I don't know right now..." I said my voice trailing off.
She smiled. "That's all right, Mr Doohan. Many are unsure at first. But do not
wait too long 'for ye know not the day nor the hour'."
"Uh...yeah, well, bye. And thanks." I gave her a wimpy wave and left.
***************************************************************
I met Allison back at the hotel. She had gone to the church storefront in
Georgetown.
"...and they want me to come to this retreat center of theirs for a weekend and
they'll pay for it. And they have openings now. She made it sound like some
loving family or a sorority...to help me purge the guilt...and take care of me.
I guess I came across as some lost waif. They wanted to take me in--like right
now."
I told Allison how different my story was. The whole thing made me more curious
than ever. Let's see, a guy walks in and they want to have him sign up for
expensive sessions with a "Confessor", then maybe somewhere down the line he
goes to this retreat center, but a gorgeous babe like Allison strolls in and
it's off to the retreat center right now. Then again, someone on the inside
might be very useful. I knew I had to report back to Henry right away.
Henry beat me to it. The phone rang. An excited Henry babbled breathlessly.
"Rollin, thank God. Listen, something has happened to Libby. I got a call from
Mary Beth's parents. The girls, as best I can piece it together are in...in
jail." He was frantic with worry in his voice.
"Slow down, Henry. In jail where?"
"In Goshen, West Virginia."
"What were they charged with?"
"This is the unbelievable part. Soliciting for prostitution."
That was unbelievable. Three college girls on a camping trip, stopping off in a
small town to peddle their asses?
"Look, Henry, I'm licensed in West Va. I'll get down there. In the meantime get
some cash together. We'll need bail. Don't worry, this is all some gigantic
misunderstanding. I'll sort it out."
I said reluctant goodbyes to Allison and jumped in the car. It was late in the
day and I probably couldn't do much until morning. The drive to Goshen took four
hours. It was late when I got in. I remembered only cheap mom and pop motels
from my salad days, but here was a brand new upscale lodge from a major chain.
Odd for a town this size in the middle of nowhere.
****************************************************************
The jail was a brand new concrete and glass building along the river south of
town. In fact everything in the town looked brand new, like all of a sudden
there had been an infusion of money. I opted for a small diner to have breakfast
in, like one the locals might use. A friendly waitress with plastic rimmed
glasses and big hair was not shy about telling me all about changes in the town.
"Those church folk came in here and things really took off. Built a new high
school, civic hall, and that park on the river. Real nice people. Keep to
themselves, though. That compound of theirs is up on Panther Ridge, up where
those DC people used to have summer cabins. Tore 'em all down, built that
center. They've been good for the town though, so I guess the powers that be
leave 'em alone to do their thing--whatever it is."
"You been up there?"
"Lord, no. You just can't go up there. It's guarded and everything."
I considered this as I headed for the county lockup. The town seemed clean,
bright and prosperous. Had building that retreat center pumped that much money
into the economy? One thing was sure, if the attitude of my waitress that
morning was any indication. The town liked the money that came from the
Revelation Church of the Atonement and were content not to ask too many
questions.
At reception at the Pendleton County Correctional Center, I encountered a portly
desk sergeant who seemed to be in charge.
"I represent Libby Mason. I understand she is here in custody and has been
charged with a crime. I'd like to see my client."
"Well, I'd let you see her, young feller," he drawled, " but truth is, she ain't
here."
"I was told she was in custody."
"She ain't here now. She was released from our custody."
What the hell? "Released to whom?"
"Them church people arranged it--took her out last night. Plea bargain deal. Her
friends weren't so lucky. They were tried. Found guilty. Sentenced to 90 lashes
each, the little pullets," he chuckled. "In fact, they get the first 30 this
mornin'. It's quiet around here today, so I tell you what--you act as civilian
witness--regs say we got to have one--and you can talk to 'em afterwards. If
they feel like talkin' that is. I imagine all they gonna be doin' for awhile is
cryin' their pretty eyes out. They're gonna get a right smart whippin' this
morning." He shoved a form at me. "Fill this out, and we'll take you to the
Corner--that's what we call it. They're going to carry out the sentence
directly."
I hastily filled out the form. "How are they to be punished? And when was this
trial?" I said impatiently. This didn't sound like due process--though it was
well known that in the wake of various states' corporal punishment
initiatives--many out of the way places dispensed rough justice, without much
regard for constitutional niceties.
"Whoa there..er...Mr Hand," he said noting my name. "First off, the trial was
held in special session two days ago. They had the public defender. They were
found guilty. Second, what they get is the 5 tail cat--it's a whip with 5
thongs--we call it the "pussy cat", right across their bare little tails. Now
here's Bobby Sue," he said, nodding to a hefty unifomed middle aged matron
approaching the desk. "Take Mr Hand here to the witness viewing area in the
Corner."
"Come with me, Mr Hand." I walked with her down a corridor then out across an
interior yard over toward a block-like structure in the corner of the yard. She
chatted as we walked.
"Yeah, can you believe it? These little madames comin' down here for the weekend
and trying to pick up our men and lure them to sin. Well we have a cure for
that--a red hot bottom, that's what. They'll think twice now before they ply
their tricks in this county."
"Ah, can I ask...if you know...what exactly was the evidence that they were, um,
soliciting?"
"Why, the complaint was made by Earl Judson, a fine upstanding man, a deacon at
my church. They were out on the road thumbin' a ride and Earl picked 'em up.
Next thing you know they want to do all kinds of things to Earl--for money.
Well, Earl didn't take 'em where they was goin'. Brought them back here and told
the sheriff. He locked them up so fast their heads was spinnin'. Now I think a
good old fashioned whippin' will teach them a thing or two. Here we are. We call
this the Corner. It's our disciplinary block."
The Corner was a high ceilinged building, very utilitarian. There was a glass
partition for spectators and some chairs. Inside the glass was a large chamber,
maybe 30' by 40'. There were two fixtures that looked like a type of exercise
apparatus. One was an inclined frame that was narrow, like an easel affixed to a
vertical post. It had a pair of rails joined at the apex and flaring out toward
the ground to about a foot apart. There was an adjustable padded crosspiece
between the rails and what were buckling straps for wrists and ankles at
appropriate heights. The other device was a low bench with a cylindrical bolster
in the middle and a series of straps for securing a person face down. There were
leather straps and multithonged whips of various lengths hanging from pegs on
the wall. The room was obviously used as a storeroom, too. There were boxes and
cartons of stuff all around along with building materials and rolls of carpeting
stacked along one end. The lighting was incandescent which gave the interior the
look of a gloomy shed, refitted for the grim purpose of punishment.
I could hear voices approaching from a corridor at an opposite wall. They were
frantic high-pitched voices and they were pleading and protesting.
"Please no, we didn't do anything. This is a big mistake. WE didn't solicit
anything...please believe me...that man...he is lying."
"Yes, look, we were just on a camping trip...no please..."
Two attractive girls, each about twenty or nineteen were hustled into the room
on the arms of a matron in the garb of a sheriff's deputy. Their hands were
cuffed behind their backs. They wore nothing but underwear, full cut white
panties and white tank tops. Apparently they'd been prepared for the whipping
back at their cells. One was tall with long light brown hair, the other was a
short busty blonde with big blue eyes. Both were pretty. The brunette had long
legs and was slim-waisted with narrow hips. The blonde was more voluptuous but
had a pinched waist, wide flaring hips and athletic, almost stocky, legs.
The girls quailed visibly and sagged at the knees when they saw the dull black
padded whipping frame, now bathed in light from overhead spotlights, and the
rack of implements on the wall.
"Oh, no," wailed the blonde, "Oh my God...don't do this to us."
The guards paid no attention. This was routine. Another day at the office.
A man in a rumpled uniform entered, along with another female deputy and a tall
athletic-looking younger woman dressed in a workout suit like a gym teacher's.
She looked big and well-muscled, like she lifted weights. She had on shorts and
a sleeveless blouse; sturdy Reeboks with good traction. She's the whipper, I
thought. Yep, she walked over to the wall and studied the rack of flagellation
devices, finally selecting a whip with several thin thongs about two feet long.
She swished it around, testing its weight and flex.
"Lori, you got the right whip?" said the uniformed man. "Sentence calls for the
adult female correctional martinet."
"Yes I do, sheriff. It's this one here," said the young woman in the gym garb.
"Well then let's get started." Turning to the girls he said, "Mary Beth Quinlan
and Celeste Jensen. You two have been convicted of soliciting for prostitution.
The judge pronounced sentence, which in this county is 90 lashes and an order to
stay out of the county for two years. We cannot give you all 90 lashes today.
They will be given to you in intervals of 48 hrs. You will get the first 30 here
and now."
"But we didn't do anything...we were just walking--our ride left us," the
brunette was pleading, the blonde nearly in tears.
"Too late for that. The judge has spoken. Let's get on with it." Nodding to the
brunette's matron he said, "Start with her, that's ah...Miss Quinlan." He looked
at his Order to make sure.
The matron said, "Come on honey. It'll be best if you cooperate--you could get
your sentence increased. You don't want that, now."
Protesting and shaking in fear, Mary Beth let herself be led over to the frame.
Quickly and efficiently, as if this move had been practiced or performed many
times, two matrons unlocked her cuffs, bent her forward and cuffed her wrists
and ankles to the frame. Her body was extended along the frame at a 45 degree
angle. One of the matrons reached underneath her and slid the crossbar along the
frame until it rested right at her pelvic bone. This made her buttocks stick out
from the frame. After the frame had been adjusted, the girl with the whip, Lori,
nodded to Mary Beth's matron. She came up behind Mary Beth and hooked her
fingers in the waistband of the panties the girl wore. Mary Beth shrieked in
protest but the matron slid the flimsy garmet down to Mary Beth's knees. Her
bare bottom and the backs of her thighs were now framed between the short tank
top and the bunched up panties.
Mary Beth was tall but had nicely rounded bottomcheeks. She shivered in fear and
looked anxiously back over her shoulder at Lori with wide frightened eyes. Lori
was positioning herself, measuring the distance so as to be able to strike
properly with the multi-thonged whip. There were 5 thongs, thin, like bootlaces,
and very supple. She pulled the strands through her fingers, drew back her arm,
and with a smooth practiced motion brought the whip down square across the
crowns of Mary Beth's buttocks. The nude bottom cheeks rippled at the impact.
Mary Beth let out a screech.
Whisssh....thwack! Another stroke raised livid red weals. Mary Beth yelled in
anguish.
Whooosh...swick! "Yeowww!....please, no! It hurts!"
Whissh...swick! More red lines appeared across the pale bottom cheeks. Another
shriek from Mary Beth.
It took about 5 minutes to administer Mary Beth's whipping. The lashes were
about 10 seconds apart, and each one was given with the full strength of Officer
Lori's arm. Mary Beth tried to dance to avoid the whip but only ended up making
her bottom jiggle lewdly. Thin red lines merged into a crimson, then nearly
purple band of welts that ran from the top of her ass to the tops of her thighs.
She wept with pain and embarassment. The lashing continued until all 30 strokes
had been duly meted out.
The matron released the straps. Mary Beth was crying profusely. She had to be
held up by her guards who yanked her panties back up over her swollen rear. It
hurt so much she could only touch herself gingerly.
Now it was Celeste's turn. She appeared to almost swoon as the sheriff motioned
for them to secure her to the frame. Celeste was a short blonde with her hair in
a ponytail and bangs in front. She had muscular thighs which almost made her
look stocky, but she had a narrow waist and a prominent bubble-shaped rear.
Strapped to the frame, and bending slightly, her behind jutted back inviting the
whip.
Celeste yelped as her panties were jerked down around her knees baring her full
white bottom. Lori assumed a businesslike stance to her left and, dipping her
body for a windup drew the whip back and swooshed it down. It struck with the
same dry thwack! The strands rebounded from Celeste's bouncing bottom. The nates
rippled with impact and Celeste shrieked in pain.
The young fit officer whipped Celeste with a will, determined to punish the
pretty coed as severely as the law allowed. Lash after lash decorated Celeste's
bounding fanny with thin red weals. Celeste squealed and wriggled as much as
Mary Beth had, but Lori was unmoved. When the 30th lash had fallen, Celeste was
taken down. Both girls continued to sob as they were led away.
The female deputy that brought me in escorted me back to the desk. For the first
time I noticed that she had different insignia on her uniform from that of the
sheriff. I asked her about it.
"Oh that's because this is a contract facility. I'm not part of the sheriff's
office proper."
"Who runs this facility?"
"Well this here is the county lockup, work farm and correctional unit. I work
for the outfit that runs it for the county--Corpun is the company name. Run a
tight ship--like that Lori. She's not a deputy either. Works for Corpun. They
trained her. Whew! And I can tell you I wouldn't want to be on the other end of
one her whippin's. That gal is strong. I seen some tough women come through here
sentenced to a whippin' or just a good strappin' for breaking rules and
such...and she always leaves 'em blubbering and crying for mercy, their mommas
or just about anything."
That was interesting news. I now had to wonder if Corpun had something to do
with Libby's arrest. An hour later I got to talk to Celeste and Mary Beth. They
were allowed into an interview room. I told them who I was, and why I was there.
They were frantic.
"You've got to help us. Please. They're going to whip us again in two days! I
couldn't stand it. God, it hurt like blazes and was so embarrassing," entreated
Mary Beth.
"Where are your parents?" I asked.
"My mom is coming from California, but it took her awhile to get a flight," said
Celeste.
"My folks are in Italy," said Mary Beth, "and I hope they can get here and stop
this thing. Can you do anything?"
"Well tell me what happened."
"It was Trey," began Mary Beth, " he left us--at that rest area. He just took
off. I don't know why. Just drove off while we were in the bathroom. We couldn't
believe it. So we finally decided we'd better hitch a ride back to town before
it got dark. This guy picks us up. We thought he was nice, but he drove us
straight to the police station and went in. Next thing we know the sheriff come
out and arrests us all. Says we propositioned him. We couldn't believe it--like
it was all some joke."
Celeste broke in. "Yeah they brought us here and locked us up. Wouldn't let us
make a call. We were screaming and hollering to be let out or to just make a
phone call. They just told us we better behave or else."
"We should have shut up, but we didn't. They took Libby to another cell by
herself. We kept demanding to be let go. Then this beefy head guard and two
other matrons come into our cell and grab us. They took us down the hall to this
room. The head matron tells us she's gonna teach us a little lesson in obedience
in her jail. She tells us to drop our pants. While they're watching we have to
take down our pants and stand there with our bare behinds exposed. And all the
time she's like, lecturing us."
"Yeah," continued Celeste, "this head matron drags out a chair and sits down.
They drug Mary Beth over to her and she flipped Mary Beth over her knee like she
was a little kid."
"It was horrible," said Mary Beth. "She pulled me over her lap and started
spanking my bare bottom. It hurt! She just spanked and spanked. She must have
hit me a hundred times! My butt was blazing. All the while she kept asking me if
I was going to behave in her jail. I broke down and swore I would, but she just
kept on smacking me. It hurt. I was wriggling, trying to get away. Then I just
started crying. She finally let me up and they grabbed Celeste."
"It was the same for me," admitted Celeste ruefully. "She put me across her knee
like a ten year old and gave me a harder spanking with her hand than I think we
got with paddles on initiation night. I was blubbering and crying and promising
to be good. I couldn't help it--it stung so bad. After that we shut up. We
didn't want a repeat of that, I can tell you!"
"So you went to trial...what...on Saturday?"
"Yes, but it was more like kangaroo court. We had this lawyer who did nothing
and the judge believed this Earl...something or other...that we propositioned
him! It was ludicrous!" exclaimed Mary Beth.
"What about Libby?"
"We didn't see her. We were told she plea bargained and was sent to some church
halfway house."
"The Church of Atonement?"
"I think so," mused Celeste. Turning to Mary Beth she said, "Isn't that the
church that Trey got her into? That kind of nutty thing about atonement for past
sins?"
"Yes--I think it was. They talked about it in the car, how you had done all
these things--in past lives even--that had to be cleansed or something. It
sounded like some mumbo jumbo to me. She and Trey were like a couple of
enthusiastic kids about it. I didn't get it."
"So Mr Hand can you help us? Please? If you don't we will
be...w-whipped...again. God, in two days!" implored Mary Beth.
"I'll do everything I can, girls. I suspect that I will have to try for Federal
Habeus Corpus--I think the local system has been corrupted, but I don't know how
or why yet. And I need to find Libby."
"Please Mr Hand, whatever you can do," said Celeste imploringly. "Nothing ever
hurt so bad and was so humiliating to boot as having my bare ass whipped like
that--you just have no idea."
She was right, I didn't. But I was going to find out, and much sooner than I
would have liked.

Atonement Ch 5
Distractions. That was the problem. I hadn't found Libby yet, and I had
committed to helping Mary Beth and Celeste escape a second painful whipping
scheduled only 48 hours from now. I thought about calling Henry but decided to
see first if I could confirm that Libby was indeed with the Church of Atonement,
at, I suspected, its compound outside of Goshen. I got directions from the desk
sergeant.
"You head out of town past the old courthouse--just keep going 'til the hard
road runs out near the old Lambeth place. You'll see the gate to the compound."
I drove as he directed. The road dead-ended at a guardhouse of sorts up in what
the natives call a "holler", a cove backed up against foothills. A road appeared
to run straight up the creek up the mountain. Barbed wire was stung on both
sides of the road. As I drove up, two men in paramilitary clothes were casually
stationed next to a small hut. They didn't look particularly friendly. The whole
thing was strange. Why did a religious compound need guards like this?
Conversation with the guards turned out to be fruitless. They wouldn't let me
in, give out any information, or call up anyone. I was at an impasse. I realized
that what I needed to do was to secure a writ from the Federal Court in Elkins
and have it served by US Marshals. Although I knew that threatening these guys
with legal process was a useless exercise, I couldn't resist a parting shot as I
drove away.
"I'll be back guys--next time with a US marshal." One of them stared blankly.
The other went into the hut and picked up a phone.
I pulled over in a dirt pullout and called Henry's number on my cell phone. I
got Jessica. Jessica filled me in on the latest development. "Henry got a call
from Corpun's president, Al Laroche. He wants to deal. He said that they could
have their lawyers contact the Church of Atonement and see if they can help.
Henry was desperate. He said he'd sign anything if they could help him get Libby
back safely. Laroche hinted that he could do that. Henry is on his way to DC."
This whole thing stunk of fraud. "Look, Jessica, can you get in touch with
Henry?"
"He always calls in when he gets where he's going. He's not going to meet
Laroche until tomorrow."
"We need to call him and tell him not to sign anything. This whole thing is a
setup. Someone set out to frame those girls on this stupid phoney solicitation
charge and separate Libby from them, then use her as leverage. I'm sure of it.
What I don't know is how or why this wacko church is involved. I also have these
two other girls to worry about, which may have been part of the plan, a
distraction to make everyone spin their wheels. I need to find the nearest
Federal court. I know it sits in Elkins, and I'll get a Habeus writ for all
three of them. Don't worry, I'll get them out. But Henry needs to sit tight. I
believe Libby is safe."
Jessica agreed. "But we need to hurry, Rollin. He's frantic."
"That's what they want, Jessica."
As I hung up the phone I was startled by a frantic hammering at my passenger
side window. A young, attractive brunette clad in what looked like an old timey
frock motioned to me. I rolled down the window.
"PLease, you've got to help me. They will be coming soon. Let me in!"
She looked like a refugee from Little House on the Prairie, except that her hair
was matted and her skin was scratched up. She'd been bushwhacking through the
brush, it looked like. I opened the door and she climbed in.
"Go! Drive, please," she entreated, looking wildly over her shoulder behind us.
I put it in gear and peeled out. When we hit the hard road she seemed to relax a
little. She said her name was Christy Connor and she had been living in the
commune of the Church of Atonement. She had run away, she said because she was
to be punished and she was afraid. "I was ordered to go to the Punishment Hut.
That's where they hand out the real punishments, not the light, ritual cleansing
we all go through, but the real thing, for disobedience or disrespect."
I wanted her to tell me more but decided to wait until she settled down and got
herself cleaned up. I told her my problem and the time constraints on it. She
said she'd gladly accompany me as far as Elkins--she just wanted to get as far
from Goshen as possible.
We stopped at a country store and I got her some jeans and a shirt to replace
the dress. Then I spotted a motel and paid for a room so she could clean up and
use the shower. The girl that emerged from the motel looked completely different
from the scared, ragged fugitive who had pounded on my window. She was a slender
girl and looked very fetching in tight jeans. She had long chestnut hair that
hung well below her shoulders. Christy had a youthful face and large brown eyes
that gave her this wild-eyed innocent look. She was a very pretty girl. And she
wanted to talk.
We got back on the road. I drove and listened to her story. "I thought the
Church was what I needed. I went to a sermon given by the founder. Have you
heard of him? Father Noah?" I shook my head. I'd never heard of this guy.
"He is so moving, so charismatic... afterwards I just knew that he could provide
direction to my life. I felt like I lacked direction and I just had these
lingering guilt feelings about the way I was living my life, and he said we
could all purge these feelings and be really happy and accepted for who we were.
So I just thought, you know, I'd go to one of their centers and see. And they
were so loving and forgiving--I mean even when I had confessed to all this bad
stuff it was ok because I was going to atone and then it would leave forever. Do
you see?"
I didn't, but I nodded anyway and she went on.
"I went through a few days of sessions with a counselor then in a group with
others, and then they said I should join them at the commune. That it would be a
new way of life. So I did. I wanted to live there--with them--like a family."
"Well, what happened?" I said.
"When I got there, everyone was real nice. I was put in a cabin with the
novices. It was like summer camp. There were 6 other girls in my cabin and we
had a leader, a woman named Betty who was sort of a housemother. We were in this
group and there were 4 cabins in all built in a rectangular sort of arrangement
with a little courtyard in the middle. That was the first thing I noticed--what
was in the middle of the courtyard--it was a pair of old fashioned stocks, you
know, like they put the Pilgrims in. It looked kind of scary but I didn't say
anything. Betty explained to us that they believed very strongly in corporal
punishment here--that it was all part of the 'penance', and that we as a cabin
had to hold up our end of work details and such or we could get put in the
pillory, as she called it, and get swats. Well that gave me a shock. But she
also said that the punishments were not so bad--more embarrassing than anything
else, sort of like a sorority initiation. She explained that as novices we were
to be like children and that we would be seeking our 'inner child'. An important
part of cleansing was to reconnect with that child and atone for the past.
"Did you know that physical correction was going to be part of this experience?"
I asked.
"Yeah...I mean, I didn't know for sure, but it was hinted at. Reverend Noah
talked about it in all of his talks. Like how we all were sinners and needed to
experience actual physical correction to be properly cleansed. He also said
nature had provided humans with the perfect place to experience punishment
without any lasting harm and how it was just and proper for us to be treated
like the children we were. So I knew, I guess, although they never really came
out and said, that spankings were a part of it." I nodded. Christy continued.
"There were four cabins with a girls' and a boys' section in each one. Everyone
was young. We all seemed to be in our 20's or late teens. I found out later some
of the novices were people who had been in jail and had agreed to come to the
commune for counseling instead of being in jail. The other thing was that
everyone seemed to be, well, attractive. I mean it was odd--like they had
allowed only attractive people to be there.
"I was there for nine weeks. It was sort of like a commune and bible camp. Girls
wore these long dresses. Boys wore trousers or shorts and a white cotton shirt
with a striped tie. The costume marked us as novices. At first all we did was
hold group discussions. They had our files from before so they knew all about
us. This was in between bible study and work chores. Two Counselors, a man and a
woman, came in and conducted these 'sessions' I guess you'd call them. Their
names were Stan and Lorna. They were older than us, in their 40's. Lorna was a
very prim, somewhat large woman. She dressed like a schoolteacher or a
librarian, you know, flowered dresses and sensible shoes. Stan was handsome,
with sort of greying hair. Real down-to earth. He looked like he'd worked
outdoors like a cowboy or a dock worker. The first week we just talked. The
second week, wow, things got interesting."
I interrupted her story. "Did you get to meet anyone named Libby, Libby Mason?"
She shook her head. "I knew everybody in my part of the compound. Unless she
used a false name..." she shrugged. Then she continued.
"We sat around in a room and confessed to things we'd done and were never caught
at or punished for. See, Rev Noah says that we aren't aware of it but there is
all this horrid guilt and sin and it must be purged. So first we had to get it
out--tell somebody--then make amends for our sinfulness.
"That second week at the camp they stated going one by one and assigning
penance. This girl named Shelly was first. She had admitted that when she was 11
she had set fire to her little brother's baseball card collection out of spite.
She always felt bad about it. No one ever knew she did it. He kept it in this
outdoor clubhouse. He thought one of the other kids had done it. Her parents
were really mad and her dad said that whoever had done it should have had his
pants pulled down for a good belt whipping. So Stan suggested that someone
should play the role of her father and give her the belting she should have had
way back then. The place got real quiet all of a sudden and we all looked at
each other like, 'did we hear that right? Is Shelly going to get a spanking?'
Then came the next surprise. Lorna asked us all how many belt licks did we think
Shelly should get for burning her brother's collection. We were all shocked that
the group was being asked to discuss this--I mean we were all shocked anyway
that this was going to happen right in front of us, but we talked about it and
decided that 15 good licks was what Shelly deserved. From Stan.
"Then Stan and Lorna made Shelly come up front while Stan sat on this padded
bench. He asked her if she was ready to atone. She was nervous and sort of
stammered out a weak 'yes'. Then Lorna got this strap from a closet. It was
about a foot long and 3" wide and had a wood handle. Stan guided Shelly over his
lap face down and pulled up her dress in the back. We all had on nothing but
sheer panties under the dresses. She screeched at having her panties exposed in
front of everyone, but he just held her there, wriggling, her butt bouncing over
his knee. But that was not all. Our eyes popped out at what came next. Stan said
the belt licking had to be given on the bare. Shelly went stiff when she heard
this and screamed 'no!' Then before she knew it, Stan rucked her panties down to
her knees.
So there she was, bare bottomed over Stan's lap, kicking and screaming. Then
Lorna handed Stan the strap. He smacked her 15 times with that strap. I'll never
forget the sight of her fanny jiggling each time it landed. It didn't look like
he was hitting her hard, just enough to make it sting a little. She wriggled
when he smacked her, and toward the end she kind of drummed her feet on the
bench. She said later that at first it tingled, then it stung a bit but that
when it was over her ass was hot and it actually felt good. She was embarrassed
though--putting her big bare hiney on display like that. He even made her stand
in the corner with her red ass showing while we talked about her punishment.
"Sounds embarrassing," I said. "You say they didn't spank her very hard?"
"No, and here is the strange part," she said, lowering her voice, "she told some
of us later that it actually turned her on, like the heat in her seat made her
horny. I'm not kidding...and it happened to the rest of us too.
We all had our turn. David got a bare bottom spanking over Lorna's knee for
telling lies. She spanked him with her hand for two or three minutes solid,
smacking him real fast, but again the smacks weren't hard. But David's penis got
hard. I saw it when he got up off her lap.
"Let's see. Then Ann got a bare fanny switching--that's what she said her mother
would have done if she'd known that it was Ann who broke her glass tabletop when
she was 9. Another girl, Carrie, played the part of her mother and this time Ann
confessed. We voted that Ann should get the switching so Lorna went out for a
moment and came back in with a skinned very thin switch. In the meantime Ann had
to take her pants off and get in the corner to wait--hind end on display. When
Lorna came back in she made Ann stand in front of Carrie and go through the
whole thing. She had to admit to breaking the table and even ask Carrie to give
her the switching she deserved. She bent over Carrie's knee and Carrie slid her
panties down. Then, at Lorna's direction, she switched Ann's bare butt with
little rapid flicks till Ann was going Ow! Ow! and pleading she was sorry.
"You said this made some people horny. Why did you mention that? Did they make
you have sex?"
" They didn't make us. In fact, at first you could be punished even for...ah..."
"Masturbating?"
She blushed, then nodded. "Yes. In fact Carrie herself got a spanking from Betty
for...masturbating. Each cabin had a housemother like Betty who took care of us,
but who had authority to punish, too. There was this padded low seat like an
ottoman or something that was bolted like a fixture in the middle of the cabin.
It was in this common area between the boys' and girls' sides. It was real
solid. Betty told us it was the Seat of Atonement and that she would use it to
correct us if we were naughty. So when she caught Carrie frigging herself she
gathered us all together and made Carrie take her pants down and get across her
knee. She gave her a good brisk spanking on her bare seat. It went on for a
couple of minutes, and while she was spanking she scolded Carrie for rubbing
herself that way. Carrie's bottom got pretty red and she was kicking and
squirming. She said it was harder than what we got from Stan and Lorna. One of
the boys, James got put across her knee when she found his, ah, jism on the
bedsheets. He lied and tried to deny it at first but then he admitted it. She
lectured him about then took his pants down and spanked him pretty hard for
lying. "
"So how did sexual activity figure into this?"
"Yeah--that was the strange thing. I mean first they tell you you can't, then
they tell you it is part of the forgiveness process that follows 'cleansing'.
With these ritual punishments going on, everybody was getting pretty aroused
watching, and being involved even. So basically they built up the tension over a
couple of weeks. Then they would assign someone to 'comfort' you. If you got
punished as part of atoning for something, they would give you a private room
and send in someone they chose to comfort you. You could have them rub cold
cream on your bottom or other things like that--or touching--or even sex.
"What about this pillory thing? Did they use that?"
"Yes, they did. That was different. It started out with weekly cleanliness
inspections. There was a competition to see who had the cleanest cabin. They
said that the losing cabin out of the four would have to choose two members who
would take swats for all of them. Those two would be locked into the pillories
and be spanked with a paddle ten times by two chosen from the winning cabin. We
got it twice, and the last time we drew lots to see who got chosen to take the
punishment, I got chosen.
"Did it hurt?"
"Whew! It sure did! A boy from cabin 3 gave me my 10 swats and he did not hold
back. Let me tell you, 10 swats on your bare behind from a pinewood paddle is no
joke--worse than a spanking from Betty, and a lot worse than the penance
punishments from Stan and Lorna. Everybody came out and stood in a circle around
the stocks. We had to put our hands and heads in these holes then they lowered
the upper board and locked it. The stocks were about 4 feet high so we were bent
over sticking our bottoms out. Then someone pinned my dress back. The boy who
got to paddle me also got to lower my panties. Wow! now that was embarrassing!
They smacked us both at the same time, with a long wait between licks, really
drawing it out. I was stamping my feet and yelling bloody murder--that paddle
stung like crazy."
"Is that why you ran? Fear of more punishment?"
"Y-yes." Suddenly she was crying. "I know I should have stayed. I mean I loved
my cabin mates and Betty, but I was afraid. I was told that I had been chosen as
a Handmaiden to escort a Confessor to an initiation ceremony and I refused."
"So what? Why did you refuse? What is a Confessor?"
"I heard things about it, like how you might have to have sex with a Confessor
and they could punish you at any time or hand you over to the Lictors if you
don't obey. We were taught that Confessors are very high spiritual beings who
have achieved 'cleansing' and must be obeyed."
"Whoa. Wait. Who are Lictors?"
"They are like enforcers. They wear these, like, military uniforms and
administer punishment in the Punishment Hut for serious crimes like disobedience
and disrespect. When I said I wouldn't go, Betty told me I'd been ordered to the
Punishment Hut. I was going, but on the way there I got really frightened and
ran into the woods instead. I kept heading down the creek until I saw the road
then I saw your car. I-I don't know...maybe I should go back. I deserve to be
punished. The Confessors know what is best for us."
What a crock. This girl had obviously been brainwashed into thinking these
"Confessors", whoever the hell they were, were high priests with a direct link
to The Almighty.
"Look, Christy, you have to think this over. I'm not sure these people have your
best interests at heart. Why don't you come as far as Elkins with me then call
your friends or parents or somebody?"
She nodded her assent, then tired from her ordeal, fell asleep.

Atonement Chapter 6
Elkins wasn't far as the crow flies, but the roads to get there would wind
through the mountains. We might be able to make it by close of business. If not,
I would call on the judge at his home. And why not? My ace in the hole was that
he was a friend of mine. So I was feeling pretty good despite the circumstances
as I headed for Elkins. If I'd been a little more alert, I might have noticed
the big Ford Explorer tailing us. We stopped at a mom and pop diner along Rt 33
for a sandwich. As we came out and approached our car someone came up behind me
quickly. I turned, but too late. I felt a sharp jab in my thigh like a needle.
Then the lights went out.
***********************************************************************
It was cool when I came to. And my arms hurt. That's understandable when you're
hanging by your wrists from a rope which had been thrown over the branch of a
tree. My eyes focused on a blonde woman in tight black leather pants standing in
front of me. The seriousness of my predicament became clear as I saw what the
blonde woman was holding in her hand. It was a carriage whip or signal whip of
some kind. It had a single snake-like thong attached to a long flexible handle.
She was idly flicking it from side to side. She looked vaguely familiar but in
my drugged -out state I was having trouble putting it together. Then she spoke.
"Wake up, wake up. I see my naughty, nosey boy is waking up from his nap."
That voice. I'd heard it recently. What the hell?
"Nice to see you again, Mr Hand." She smirked and brushed wispy strands of
blonde hair to the side of her face. Then I knew. Yep. That's who it was. Anna
Klochek. Women's head matron at the correctional center on St John's. I tried to
speak but the words wouldn't come.
"You seem to find yourself at odds with people who don't want to be bothered, Mr
Hand. Making trouble. Interfering. So now my client would like for me to give
you a message."
"W-who?" I managed to croak.
Anna just smiled. "Let's just say my client wants people to stop sticking their
noses where they don't belong."
Anna continued. "Now, these nice people asked me to deliver this message because
I have a talent for such things. But first, your new friend Christy has
something to tell you."
I hadn't seen Christy, but now she walked into my field of view. The jeans and
shirt were gone. She was wearing some kind of brief tunic, like a Roman slave or
something. An attractive 40ish woman accompanied by two younger men in their
twenties stood nearby.
"Christy has something to say to you, Mr Hand." Turning to Christy she said, "Go
ahead, Christy."
Christy started hesitantly, "I-I apologize, Mr Hand. This is Sister Betty, the
Matron in my cabin," as she spoke she indicated the woman. "I've talked to her
and I've realized that running away was wrong. So I'm going back with them. I
didn't mean to get you in trouble." Her eyes fluttered and she looked
imploringly at Sister Betty. "Please don't hurt him. He didn't know."
Betty spoke next. "Don't worry dear, Ms Anna won't hurt him. He is restrained so
he won't interfere with your correction for this stunt. You know how worried we
were. You could have been hurt."
"Yes, Sister B-Betty," she said, eyes downcast. "I know I deserve to be punished
for running away."
"Yes, you do, child, and I am going to have to punish you right now in front of
Mr Hand so he will see that you willingly accept your penance for this deed. Are
you ready, Christy?"
Christy nodded.
"Then take off your tunic, dear, and come here." Betty had seated herself on a
log and pulled from her purse what looked like a piece of stiff oval-shaped
leather with a wooden handle. She cracked it several times against her palm.
Christy almost jumped at the sound, but undid her sash and pulled the tunic over
her head and dropped it to the ground. Then she took off the blouse. Reluctantly
she approached Betty, clad only in white nylon panties and a skimpy bra. The
slender lines of her body and legs merged with a plump and beguiling bottom, the
white cheeks of which bulged out from the sides of the skimpy panties.
"Now, Christy," said Betty, "you know the price of disobedience is atonement,
don't you?"
"Yes, Sister Betty," said Christy in a small voice.
"And you were disobedient running away, weren't you?"
"Yes...I'm sorry."
"And do you freely accept your punishment, here in front of your brothers and
sisters and this outsider?"
"Yes, Betty."
"Christy, you did a childish thing, running away like that. And so you are to
receive a punishment that befits a child. So place yourself across my lap, girl.
I'm going to spank you very soundly, just like any mother would do to a naughty
child who ran away from home."
"Yes, Betty...I'm s-sorry. I won't run away again."
"All right then, get across my knee, child."
Christy blushed and draped herself over Betty's knee. Betty pulled her over and
adjusted her so that her bottom was poised in a jacknifed position over Betty's
right thigh. Betty slowly dragged the little panties down, baring Christy's
exquisitely shaped buttocks. Christy was trembling, fearful of the stinging pain
to come. In spite of myself, I began to feel arousal from the scene being
enacted before me.
"Reach back with your hands, that's it, give me your wrists." Betty was leaving
nothing to chance. She held Christy's wrists in a hard grip at the small of her
back with her left hand. Christy was totally immobilized. Her nude fanny was
vulnerably exposed to the smacker in Betty's hand which was rising to shoulder
level. With her right hand she brough the leather sole down on Christy's right
buttock cheek with a loud crack! that rang through the stillness of the forest.
Betty spanked Christy with hard wrist-snapping strokes that hit alternate cheeks
in a fast stinging barrage that had Christy gasping in pain and wriggling over
Betty's knee. The spanks were delivered with a steady Crack! crack! crack!
Blotches of pink turned red as the smacking continued until Christy's once pale
fanny had been spanked to a cherry red. Christy wiggled her bottom, bouncing
over the lap of the stern correctress, and fluttering her feet as much as the
panties tucked at her kneehollows would permit.
"Aren't you ashamed? Will you ever do this again?" lectured Betty as she cracked
the sole down again and again on the bobbing seat writhing over her lap.
"Ow! Ow! I'm sorry! I won't run away. I'm sorry...sorry!" wailed Christy in time
to the harshly smacking leather.
Betty gave the girl a good hard spanking--a very thorough punishment that,
elicited tears, pleas for forgiveness, and promises of better behavior. It must
have gone on for a good 5 minutes, the steady SMACK SMACK SMACK of the leather
and Christy's mewling echoing through the sylvan glade. Betty eventually stopped
though, breathing heavily with exertion. She helped Christy to her feet. Christy
was gasping for breath, sobbing and rubbing her inflamed buttocks.
"Now, Christy," said Betty, "there is one more thing."
"Yes, Betty?" said Christy, sniffling.
"Ordinarily you might wish to be comforted, but today, since your transgression
has involved an outsider, it is only just that you apologize to him. Now, I
think that your friend has become very uncomfortable. Do you know why?"
Christy shook her head.
"He has become aroused, very aroused, through witnessing your punishment. You
will relieve his discomfort. Take off your panties and bra."
Christy stared, wild-eyed, her mouth open. "B-but..."
"Now, girl! Or do I have to ask Ms Anna if I can use her whip?"
Tearfully, Christy complied.
I spoke up. "You don't have to do anything you don't want, Christy. Leave these
people. Come with me. They are a cult, a mind-control cult. Don't you see that?"
"I'd keep it buttoned if I were you," said Anna Klochek. She whispered in my
ear, "We have a little date after they leave, so be a good boy or mama will
spank." This last admonishment was delivered with a pat to my backside.
Christy obeyed Sister Betty and slipped off her bra and panties, naked now in
front of us. She had smallish breasts but they were nicely shaped and her
slender hips flared revealing her lush triangle.
"Go and kneel at his feet, child," said Sister Betty, nodding toward me. Chisty
did as she was told, kneeling in front of me.
"Undo his belt and pull his pants down." Again Christy obeyed the directive. My
slacks dropped to my ankles. I tugged on my ropes--pointless.
"Now, Christy, reach into his shorts and pull out his manhood. It is nice and
hard, child, from watching your correction and seeing your nakedness." This was
true. My cock was stiff from the spectacle of poor Christy's ass smacking.
Christy did not need to be told what to do next. She ran her fingers along the
length of my cock, stroking and teasing. Gingerly she bent her head towards my
glans and softly kissed the head, top, sides and underneath. Then forming her
lips in an "O" she slowly slid it in about halfway before clamping her lips on
it and drawing her mouth back. She repeated this move several times before
gulping deeper, engulfing the entire lenghth of it in her tender mouth. Then she
began swirling her tongue around the head. Waves of pleasure washed over me and
I groaned. Involuntarily I started pumping my hips in time to her sucking
movements. I couldn't stop it. Spastic jerks signalled my cumming and I erupted
into Christy's mouth. She gurgled as I came and cum dripped out of her mouth,
but she kept sucking and pumping her hand on my swollen shaft.
Sister Betty told Christy she could get up and dress and that she had done a
good job giving me pleasure. I saw Christy sigh with relief and gratitude when
Sister Betty told her that she would not have to go to the Punishment Hut and
that her punishment was finished. Christy dressed and she, Sister Betty and one
of the young men walked down the trail, out of view.
Anna Klochek turned to me whip in hand, a wicked smile on her lips. "Well, Mr
Hand it's just you and me. Malcolm, go take a walk, will you? We have something
to discuss." Malcolm smirked and followed in the direction the others had taken.
"If you think for a minute that I believe that girl is acting of her own free
will, you're mistaken," I said with more bravado than I felt. "I'd release me if
I were you. Kidnapping is a Federal rap."
"Oh, I don't think you'll be telling anyone about this little party in the
woods," said Anna, "after all, you were a willing participant, at least
according to Malcolm, Larry, and of course, little Christy herself. Now before I
leave you in this serene forest clearing, I'm going to give you that message I
told you about. Since you have been butting in where you are not wanted, I think
it is only fitting that the message be delivered to that part of your body that
does all that 'butting in'. Turn around, please." She said this last bit in an
almost sing-songy voice. My guts froze. She was going to whip my ass like I was
a schoolboy.
"Now wait a minute," I sputtered. "You can't do this. This is criminal."
"I can and I am going to. Now turn around and stick your tushy out nicely for
me. You wouldn't want my whip to land on any delicate parts, now would you?"
She approached me and I thought to kick but my feet were tied together. She
grabbed my shoulders and spun me around then almost in one motion she slid her
fingers into the waistband of my shorts and yanked them down. I was now nude
from my ankles to my waist and all I could do was hop and heave my body back and
forth.
"Now, Mr Hand, I think we'll start with a nice dozen and see where that gets
us." I only heard the whine of the whip--I could not see it. But I sure felt
it--a streak of fire that exploded across my
ass. I jumped. The whip sang through the still air again and I felt another
searing stroke. The pain was quite unlike anything I'd ever felt. It was sheer,
bloody agony. She must have given me twenty or thirty strokes. I don't know. I
didn't even try to count. All I know is I was overwhelmed by pain that made me
feel like my hind end was ablaze. I screamed for her to stop. She told me to
scream all I wanted, that no one would hear. She told me she liked my screams,
that it told her the message was getting through. When she stopped I was hoarse
from yelling, and I was gasping for breath. I hurt so badly I couldn't think. I
was afraid of going into shock.
She came around to my front. "I told you mama would spank. Now, I hope you
understand that some people just want to be left alone."
"Where is Libby Mason?" I choked.
"Libby Mason is where she wants to be, and if you ask me again I'll add about
another twelve lashes or so. Your ass is pretty puffy and the skin might break
if I have to work you over some more. So take my advice. Go home. You don't know
what you are messing with...and the next time it could get rough."
Her answer told me everything I needed to know. They were hiding Libby and she
was important to them. Anna wasn't that smart. Up to then I was ready to believe
this was all about helping Christy the runaway. Now I knew better. I slumped in
my ropes and watched Anna stride off through the woods.
It took me a long time working my wrists in the ropes, but I finally freed
myself. I had trouble putting on my clothes as my backside was a swollen mass of
pain. A path led from the clearing and about a half mile later it emerged on a
hard road. My car was parked with the keys in it. That surprised me. After
kidnapping, assault, and battery, what's a little grand theft auto? I surmised
that they were confident that their "message" had been delivered.
"This is insanity. You won't get away with this." I was almost shouting now, but
there was no one there to hear me.

Atonement Chapter 7
I drove through the thickening twilight towards Elkins. The pain had subsided a
bit, but it would be days before I could sit comfortably. That old admonishment,
"you won't sit for a week!" resonated in my memory. I had had a "right smart ass
whuppin'" as they say in W. Virginia. But I had bigger problems than the state
of my tender backside. I still did not know exactly where Libby Mason was, and I
had to waste time trying to help the girls.
I was able to convince my friend the judge to issue the Habeus writ. The next
day found me back in Goshen presenting the writ to the sheriff. It was timely.
They were scheduled to be whipped again that day at 3pm. If they had scheduled
it in the morning, I would have been too late. I could visualize Lori, the
"executioner" warming up her arm, swishing the martinet with those thickly
muscled shoulders, and the girls, their eyes wide with fear, bound to the frame,
their tender behinds stuck out, bare and vulnerable. This time I really could
sympathize since my own backside was welted and sore.
By this time, though, the girls' parents had arrived and were hard at work on
their own to secure their release. The combination of the federal writ and
pressure brought to bear by angry parents was too much for prosecutor in
Pendleton County and the remaining sentence was suspended.
So now what? I needed help in the form of intelligence into the workings of the
Revelation Church of Atonement . Then an idea came to me. There was a guy I knew
in DC, William Wolfe. Bill and I had gone to school together. After undergrad,
Bill had gone into the service where he had made his way into Naval
intelligence. From there he was recruited by the CIA, but had left after a few
years to form his own security firm in the DC area. We had talked over the
years, and I had once extricated his teen-age daughter from a nasty situation
involving underage drinking and vandalism. She had said she was only along for
the ride. I believed her. She's a nice kid.
Bill was happy to hear from me. And there was another surprise.
"Rollin, I can't believe the timing on this. We are working for a company whose
CEO has a daughter who has joined this Church of Atonement, and he's very
concerned. His name is Dave Kraft and he believes his daughter Elaine has been
brainwashed. At his request we have started an investigation. Come on up and
meet with us and we'll share information."
Bill had an office in Tyson's Corners. The name of the firm was JLO Security.
"So what does JLO stand for?" We were sitting in Bill's office catching up with
each other.
"Not a damn thing," said Bill. "When Kim was little she went through a phase
when all she would eat was Jello. I guess that memory stuck with me. How have
you managed to stay unwed?" He asked, changing the subject.
"Luck. Timing. The ones I wanted got away, and I escaped the ones mom warned me
about." I shifted to the business at hand. "So this church--what do you know
about them?"
"Ah," said Bill, "not much now, but we will soon. Not a whole lot is publicly
known and they have a reputation for silencing detractors. We have someone on
the inside, a woman from our organization. She volunteered to go undercover to
see if she could get a line on our client's daughter."
"Where is she now?"
"She has entered the Church's commune in Goshen--where you were turned away. She
is posing as a novice, eager to go through their program, whatever it is. But
here is the thing--we are using some brand new technology, small wireless fiber
optic lens cameras and audio transducers. She took these in with her and can
hide them all over the commune. They will actually be transmitting data
continuously. So if our client's daughter is there, she will find her."
I was astonished. "How long have you had this stuff?"
"It's brand new in the civilian security market, the spooks have had it for some
time."
"What's this girl's name?"
"Lisa Tallmadge, but under cover she is 'Cathy Riggs'. She came to us from a
police department in Minnesota. A little green, she's only 24--and looks 19, by
the way--but very bright."
"Bill, I don't want to alarm you, but do you have any idea what these people do
in there?"
Bill didn't, so I told him. Everything that Christy Connor had told me.
"Holy shit, Rollin. You are telling me that Lisa is very likely going to get her
ass shellacked several times over."
"There's more." I told him about my run-in with Anna Klochek, and the story of
how I came to make her acquaintance.
"Then we'd better get going. These people are seriously whacked. And that could
be dangerous. That cult mentality lumps the world into two factions--us and the
enemy. I was going to give Lisa a week to get in and get acclimated before we
set up the monitoring station, but now it looks like we need to get going."
"Where is the monitoring station?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah, that's the thing. It has to be within about 400 yards of the subject.
These tiny transmitters run for a long time but they don't have much range. This
is a clandestine op, and we need to be in the field close by. It means
infiltrating the property and setting up in the woods near the commune. We set
up a dish, connect a laptop and start recording."
*************************************************
The away team was me, Bill, a partner of Bill's named Jim Groves, and a woman
named Wendy Savin. Wendy was an attractive blonde in her 30's, and was the field
link tech and computer expert. She knew her stuff about the equipment and was
pleasant to have around. She smiled a lot and had a dry wisecracking sense of
humor. She wasn't very "outdoorsey" though, and I wondered how the camping out
would go with her. She seemed willing to try though. Jim was the outdoor type.
He would do the climbing and the close-in surveillance. He was an ex SWAT team
cop and a veteran. The field link would transmit via satellite back to JLO.
I called Henry and brought him up to speed. He agreed this needed to be done,
since it seemed to provide a reasonable chance of finding his daughter. Once we
had evidence of what was going on, we might get a court or the police to
intervene. Still this aspect bothered me. There was no evidence of kidnapping.
It appeared to be a religious cult that practiced corporal punishment rituals
out of a sense of guilt. Sounded to me like my old Catholic grade school. The
sex part didn't. We had never had that at Saint Alphonse's. No little eighth
grade beauty had ever been appointed to "comfort" me after a paddywhacking from
Sister Mary Josephine's trusty ruler. But there could be more. The Punishment
Hut didn't sound very consensual and the thing Christy had said about
"initiation" and being a "handmaiden" to a "Confessor" sounded ominous.
I also got in touch with Jane and asked her to find out anything she could about
Corpun and Noah Chrossman and the Revelation Church of Atonement. She promised
to get right on it. "I wouldn't want you to think I was slacking off, boss. I
would just dread the Friday reckoning when you got back if I had no results."
I'll just bet you would, I thought, but I didn't say that.
It had been awhile since I had gone backpacking, but once again I found myself
laboring up a hill through a wooded ravine, keeping out of sight. We had entered
from the opposite side of the property and were on our way up to a ridge which
overlooked the commune from the South. Our plan was to climb trees to situate
the dish antennas which were camoflaged. We set up tents and prepared for a long
stay. There was no telling how long we would have to monitor to get something
useful and didn't know how much of the commune Lisa had been able to cover.
One option she had was the use of fiber optic hand held camera/ mic combination
but this would require her to "spy" from a hidden location, a risky strategy. We
hoped to iron out the details of the operation once we were in contact with
Lisa.
We opened up the link on a Wednesday evening. Lisa had been there since the
previous Monday. She had picked a spot off a trail in the woods to speak with us
directly. Otherwise the only way she could do it was in code in conversation
with others. When we turned on the computer, we saw where the equipment had been
placed. We could toggle between several different inputs and thereby monitor a
number of spots in the compound.
First we had a view of the common area inside Lisa's cabin. Then another scene
showed the open courtyard outside and the ominous pillories. A third camera/mic
combination went into a large room, a day room or classroom, we couldn't tell
which. Yet another view was of a large ampitheater. We hadn't heard of this
before. It was built into a hillside and covered, but was otherwise an open air
structure. At the center was a stage with an upright wooden post on it. The post
had an iron ring at its top. "It looks like a whipping post," marveled Wendy. I
nodded. "Fits what we know so far. It's probably for some big ceremony." Wendy
gaped. "Would they really use that?" She seemed fascinated.
We could see groups of people moving through the field of view of the various
scenes. We could also zoom the cameras to get closer. This was useful,
especially with the ampitheater cam, because it had what appeared to be a major
traffic area or crossroads in its far field of view.
The first thing of note that we saw took place in the "classroom". A group of
men and women entered and sat around in a circle. The women wore plain dark
tunics over white blouses, the tunics hemmed above the knee and white knee
socks. This made them look like Catholic schoolgirls although some were plainly
in their 30's. The men wore dark trousers, crisp white shirts and striped ties.
An older man and woman conducted a session that sounded like group therapy. Lisa
was there, and from time to time she would cast glances at the camera. She
looked nervous.
The facilitators, who referred to themselves as Brother Robert and Sister Marian
were leading a general discussion about the need for atonement when a pretty
girl named Linda spoke up and shared how she had felt bad about drinking in
college, how it had wrecked her grades. She had flunked out and felt like she
had let her parents down. The discussion went around the room with everyone
weighing in about Linda's failings and how they had done similar things. It
looked and sounded like a 12 step meeting. Then the discussion apparently
reached a turning point. "Sister" Marian said, "So Linda, are you prepared now
to atone?" This was the big question. Each one of these participants would be
asked to pick an incident about which they felt especially guilty, share it in
group, have it discussed and dissected, and suggest their own way to pay the
debt and relieve their guilt.
"Y-yes, Sister, I am ready," quavered a nervous Linda.
"How do you hope to atone, Linda?" asked Brother Robert.
"W-well," said Linda, "my friend Emily came home drunk once after a date and her
dad took off his belt and wh-whipped her. She told me about it later. He put her
over the end of her bed the next morning and gave her a hard whipping across her
u-underpants with a thick leather belt."
Addressing the group now Brother Robert asked everyone if that punishment seemed
fair. Some did, but most thought that she should get it bare. After all it was a
long series of infractions, not just one.
"I think, Linda, that it is time for you to experience the cleansing pain of
correction for this sin. Are you prepared, sister?" asked Marian. She said, "I,
uh, g-guess so." She was like a deer in the headlights.
We watched as another surprise unfolded. "Who would be willing to play the part
of Linda's father?" asked Brother Robert.
"I will," said a rather clean cut, serious looking young man in his early 20's.
So they were going to allow a fellow novice to act as disciplinarian--an
interesting touch.
Brother Robert addressed him. "So, Ethan, can you suggest how Linda's father
should have dealt with her, and how you would assume that responsibility?"
Ethan spoke right up. "I think Linda should have a sound whipping--with a
leather strap. I will punish her, brother, for her own good." Heads nodded in
approval, but beneath the formal sanctimonious posturing there was a palpable
sense of excitement at the ritual about to unfold.
Sister Marian spoke to Linda. "Do you accept Ethan's suggestion for your
atonement, Linda?"
Linda blushed and stammered, "I-I do, I guess..."
"Very well," said Brother Robert. "There is a punishment strap hanging from a
nail in the closet, Ethan. You may proceed."
We watched the monitor, transfixed as Ethan retrieved a short leather strap
dangling from a wooden handle. He apparently had decided to put her over his
knee because he sat in an armless chair and motioned for her to approach. Linda
looked very unsure of herself as she reluctantly edged towards Ethan, now seated
with the strap held in his right hand. Gingerly she laid herself across Ethan's
lap. With much ceremony he slowly lifted her skirt revealing a very attractive
bottom clad in white full cut panties. Linda blushed as Ethan admonished her to
hold onto the chair leg crosspieces. He asked her if she was ready and she
stammered a reply indicating assent. Ethan slowly peeled down the white panties
exposing a fully rounded white bottom. The panties came to rest at Linda's knee
hollows. He hefted the strap and announced the sentence, 39 strokes.
It was an astounding sight, an attractive, fully grown woman in a childish
schoolgirl tunic suspended over the lap of a man close to her age, her bare
bottom luridly exposed to the gaze of the dozen or so participants. Ethan raised
his arm and brought the strap down with a sharp thwack! leaving a pink band
right across the lower portion of her hind cheeks. Her twin moons wobbled with
the impact, and she emitted a shocked gasp of pain. Thwack!...Thwack!...Thwack!
The cracks of the strap came through loud and clear on the hidden mike. The
others began to count the strokes, like it was a ritualistic chant.
7...8...9...they intoned as the strap continued to smack the redenning globes of
Linda's fanny. Linda started to squirm. By 20 she was emitting groans of
distress. By lick number 30 she was softly drumming her toes on the floor and
the wriggling had become more pronounced. At the last few strokes her body
arched backward and she tensed up and yelped as if it were all she could do to
hold on and endure the shameful licking. The strap had colored her seat a bright
red which stood out sharply against the whiteness of her lower back and thighs.
Having delivered a very thorough smacking with the short strap, Ethan now gently
lifted Linda and set her back on her feet. Linda's hands went immediately to her
injured nether cheeks and she rubbed her bottom under the skirt which had fallen
back down while shifting from foot to foot in obvious discomfort.
"Congratulations, Sister Linda, you have taken a major step on the path toward
total atonement," stated Brother Robert somewhat formally. "Everyone, let us
rise and embrace our sister."
Everyone stood up and one by one, each gave Linda a hug. Ethan was last. She
approached him shyly but everyone clapped as she hugged her punisher. It seemed
there were no hard feelings. As the meeting drew to a close a smiling Sister
Marian asked Linda if she would like "comfort" from Ethan. She blushed demurely
but accepted with a nod. Hand in hand Linda and Ethan headed for a back room.
We were watching for Lisa's reaction and she turned toward the hidden camera and
gave us a wink as if to say, "Get a load of that!"
There was even more activity later on. The "housemother" was a woman known as
Sister Edith. Sister Edith ran a tight ship. In front of the assembled household
she announced that two of their company had failed to do properly assigned
chores and had snuck off into the woods to avoid work instead. This was a
serious offense. We watched as two of the young men in the group dragged out of
a storage closet an apparatus with a padded top that looked like a half barrel
on legs. Two women, both in their 20's were the culprits. They had long downcast
looks on their faces as they endured a thorough scolding from Sister Edith.
During the scolding we could see their eyes shifting apprehensively toward the
ominous looking barrel apparatus.
When the lecture was over Sister Edith retrieved a sturdy rectangular paddle of
the school/fraternity variety which hung on the wall from a hook. Slapping the
paddle smartly in her palm she pronounced sentence on the two delinquents. They
were sentenced to 10 swats each.
So, one at a time, in full view of the company, each woman lifted her skirts and
bent over the barrel to take her ten licks. Each woman wore nothing but thin
panties under the skirts.
Joanne, a medium height brunette, was first. She leaned across the "barrel" and
lifted her skirt to reveal a plump seat in panties that could not cover all of
it. The lower part of her bottomcheeks bulged out of the leg bands on the side
making her fanny almost bare. Sister Edith took her position, tapped Joanne's
quivering seat a few times with the paddle, then methodically applied 10 hard
smacks to the seat of each woman's panties. The crisp Smack! of the paddle
hitting flesh and a screech of anguish defined each deliberate lick. The paddle
was heavy and caused Joanne's ample fanny to flatten momentarily on impact
before spring back into a fully rounded shape. The deliberate paddling caused
much frantic wriggling and elicited fervent pleas for forgiveness. It was a
serious punishment and Joanne's reaction told us she had been thoroughly
chastised for the indescretion.
A blonde named Anne was next and if anything she reacted more vociferously to
the painful paddling. The steady Splat! Whap! Smack! made Anne wriggle
shamelessly and beg forgiveness between yelps of pain. Twice she leapt up
clutching her bottom and twice she had to be ordered to assume the position once
again and present her bottom for correction. The treatment caused more than a
few tears to flow and we could see the pained expressions afterward as both
punished women rubbed their bottoms trying to ease the sting during the
after-punishment lecture on obedience to the rules.
We watched in amazement. Wendy just shook her head. "Oh my God, what has Lisa
gotten herself into?" We all wondered that.

Atonement Chapter 8
The next morning there was activity in the classroom. The classes were mostly
boring lectures on the Bible centered on the passages most relevant to the
church's beliefs. But then there was a surprise test passed out by the
instructor. It apparently caught several students unaware. After several minutes
of frantic scribbling the papers were collected. The lesson continued as if
nothing had happened. But that afternoon, a stern visaged instructor, a "Brother
Oliver" read the names of several unfortunate individuals who had flunked the
test. There were nervous glances all around, especially among those who had been
on the list.
There was some relief when the teacher announced that extra study assignments
were to be given those who had not done well. This relief was tempered with the
announcement that one of their company would be chosen to atone for the sins of
all of them. This was a serious matter--botching a bible study test, and the
unfortunate sacrifice would be publicly punished in front of them all. Brother
Oliver produced a bowl with a number of colored stones in it. All were white
except for one black stone. The 5 who had flunked the test were made to draw one
at a time to see who would accept punishment for the group. The black stone was
drawn by a voluptuous brunette named Dorothy. She gasped as the black stone was
revealed.
"You have been chosen to atone, Novice Dorothy. Your punishment will commence in
full view of the assembly tonight. You will be punished by one of your own in
this group of novices. Those 5 with the highest grades on the test will now draw
to see who will administer 12 strokes of the razor strop to Dorothy this evening
in the courtyard pillory."
The task fell to David, one of the older men in the group of a class of about
50, probably the entire novice group from the compound of four cabins. We hadn't
noticed it before but he was referring to a 15" strap attached to a wooden
handle that hung from a hook on the wall of the classroom. Brother Oliver took
it down and ceremonially handed it to David.
"See that you lay on the strokes well, Novice David, so that your sister Dorothy
will truly feel the righteous pain of correction."
Dorothy's face was a mask of dismay. The strap looked very supple and heavy.
Later, after supper, Lisa finally reported in. She had slipped off with a
minicam/mic because when her image came up she was in some small enclosed area
like a broom closet, a small light bulb hanging from a string the only light.
"I can't talk long. We're supposed to assemble in the common courtyard at 6:30
to witness punishment. Did you see that? How they drew lots to see who would get
it? That woman Dorothy's going to get a strapping. This is crazy here--these
people are very strange. And Will, it's only a matter of time before they get to
me. Everybody has to do this ritual atonement. My turn's coming."
Even though she was on our side, I couldn't help but be intrigued by the
prospect. Lisa was cute blonde with a curvy figure and I had to wonder what sort
of story she would make up. After all, she couldn't blow her cover.
Will spoke, " Lisa, we'll try to pull you out before it comes to that." Lisa
looked at the camera and gave a little smile and a shrug. "Don't worry about it.
I can take it. It's not so bad--the girls all say it doesn't hurt too
much--except the paddle--that's a real stinger. Hurts like hell."
Will continued, "But, have you found anybody? Is Elaine there?"
Elaine was the daughter of Will's client. "I think so," said Lisa. I'm pretty
sure she is in one of the other novice cabins. I think it's her but she cut her
hair. You might be able to pick her out in the classroom because we all go
together there."
"Ok, we'll look harder, but with the camera position we see a lot of backs of
heads and not much else."
"Look," said Lisa, "I'll try to find her in a few minutes when we assemble and
get her in the field of view. Look for us in front just past the pillory."
"Also," said Bill, "Can you get a minicam in this place they call the Punishment
Hut?"
"That's risky," said Lisa with a shiver. "They take people there for serious
infractions like blasphemy or fighting and stuff. What happens there is not
these little paddywhackings. Anyone who is sent there is further along anyway,
not a novice, I hope."
"Show us where it is and we'll sneak in and plant one."
"Ok" said Lisa. "I'll transmit the exact location next chance I get. Gotta go."
Her screen went black.
At 6:30 our attention was focused on the screen showing the courtyard with its
pillory in the center. First the assembled group of the fifty or so novices
emerged from the cabins and arranged themselves in four rows around the
perimeter of the courtyard under the direction of their "housemothers". When all
were in place Dorothy emerged from her cabin escorted by David strap in hand and
another older woman who must have been one of her counselors. Dorothy was clad
in a flowing white cotton nightgown. Waiting at the pillory was the teacher we
had seen in the classroom wearing what looked like an old-time minister's frock
and carrying a book that looked to be a bible.
Dorothy was escorted to stand in front of the minister.
"Novice Dorothy are you prepared to accept punishment on behalf of your wayward
brothers and sisters in full view of this assembly?"
Dorothy managed a squeaky "y-yes." She didn't look too certain about it. In
fact, she looked more like a deer in the headlights--with nowhere to run.
"Then let us proceed with a prayer before we chastise our sister," intoned the
black clad leader. We heard some crazy mishmash of passages read from the
"bible", and then the order was given to prepare Dorothy. The crosspiece of the
pillory was lifted and Dorothy was made to bend over and place her head and
hands in the half circle cut outs. The upper board was lowered and secured with
pegs. Dorothy was bent over at an angle of slightly less than ninety degrees,
but even so her haunches jutted obscenely, the twin globes of her bottom clearly
outlined by the filmy material of the gown settling in her bottom cleft.
There was a hush as Dorothy's gown was lifted to reveal the nude bottom beneath.
The ends of the gown were secured with pins to the pillory. The fact that she
was naked under the gown probably surprised no one. Dorothy had a prominent and
shapely derriere. She was a voluptuous girl, short in stature with stocky legs
but a narrow waist that emphasized the swelling bottom globes even more.
The unveiling of Dorothy now complete, the minister addressed David. "Novice
David you have been given the task to teach our sinful sister the error of her
ways. See that you lay on twelve stripes hard and true." David nodded and
stepped to the rear of the pillory. Taking a stance, he hefted the supple strap.
Dorothy trembled vivibly as he prepared to administer the strokes.
"I wish for you all to count the strokes as they are given," said the minister,
addressing the assembly. "You may begin."
David drew back, then his arm came down with a blur. The starp impacted
Dorothy's fanny and it flattened momentarily.
THWACK! "One," chanted the crowd.
WHAP! "Two."
"Ouch...unhh..." wailed Dorothy, trying to wiggle from side to side.
THWACK! "Three" The strap cracked like a pistol shot against the wobbling seat.
WHACK! "Four," continued the throng
THWAP! "Yeowww....unhh....please. Oh it hurts!" Dorothy's shrill protest
competed with the intonation of the stroke count, "Five".
We were so wrapped up in watching this ritual strapping that we almost missed
Lisa gesturing with her head to the woman next to her. Will saw it and pulled
out the picture he had of an attractive long haired brunette of about 25. It was
true she had cut her hair to a short bob, but the young woman standing there was
indeed Elaine, the daughter of their client. She appeared glued to the
spectacle, whether in excitement or trepidation, we could not tell.
"Well, it's her," murmured Will as we watched in rapt fascination as David
delivered smack after meaty smack to the defenseless rear cheeks of the
unfortunate Dorothy. The strap left vivid rectangular bands of red that were now
merging into an angry red mass.
THWACK! "Nine," came the chant. They sounded almost excited, as if mesmerized by
the lurid punishment spectacle.
Dorothy was sobbing now. The humiliation and pain of the strapping had taken
their toll. She wailed again as the tenth lick fell, wagging her bottom back and
forth as much as the cruel pillory permitted.
THWACK! "Oww....oh....ow," cried the sobbing girl. "Ten," came the count.
WHAPPP! "Eleven," they chanted.
THWACCKKK! came the final hard slap from the supple leather.
"Yeoww....oh....ow...uhhh," bleated Dorothy as the final count of "twelve" was
uttered by the assembly.
Dorothy was writhing and crying, rising up and down on her toes, wiggling her
red, swollen buttocks as if this would alleviate the awful sting imparted by the
strap. The strapping completed, they unlocked the stocks and let Dorothy rise.
The white gown fell back over her covering her backside. She sobbed quietly and
could be seen gently rubbing what was surely a flaming bottom. The preacher
addressed everyone and they all bowed their heads in prayer as he said something
about true atonement having been achieved by Dorothy's suffering and how she was
an inspiration to them all, having been whipped for the sins of others. We could
see several in the crowd nodding seriously, eating it up. Then, David, her
punisher, took her by the arm to lead her back in.
Lisa cocked her head toward Elaine and approached her. As they dispersed for the
evening, we could see them talking. We could expect to hear from Lisa later, it
would appear.
Throughout the day I had been watching Wendy's reactions to the disciplinary
dramas being played out before our eyes. At times I could detect a shortness of
breath and a genuine flush creeping up the back of her neck. And it was plain to
see that the nipples of her breasts became, at times, hard and distended. I
wondered if our voyeuristic interests in these proceedings were exciting to her.
She was pretty in a cute way with her short curly blonde hair. She was not a
supermodel, but she had a very nice figure, one that was perhaps a bit hippy
given her sedentary lifestyle. But she looked very fetching in the tight jeans
she wore that hugged her hips and rear like a second skin. It looked to me like
watching all this was a sexual turn-on for her. I had to admit to some stiffness
in my own pants, too.
***********************************************
Based upon data supplied by Lisa, Bill and Jim thought they had located the
infamous "Punishment Hut". The next morning they decided to scout it out using
surveillance telescopes while Wendy and I continued monitoring the vid screens.
Our attention turned to another group session. This time however, it was indeed
Lisa who was the object of the group's focus. Her luck had run out. We watched,
fascinated as "Cathy" nervously recounted some imagined (or maybe real) story
about sneaking out to a forbidden party and smoking or drinking. She admitted
lying about it, and added that she had never been caught. We thought she was
laying it on a bit thick, but then she did not want to blow her cover.
The group leaders asked her if she was ready to atone and purge the guilt of her
lying and deceitfulness. Having told a story to stay in character, Lisa was
caught, and had to nervously answer "yes" while casting worried glances at where
she knew the camera was. Wendy and I looked at each other and shrugged. What
could we do? If we came charging in like the cavalry, the whole thing was blown.
"Cathy" was just going to have to grin and bear it.
The group was sure that Cathy's burden would be lifted if she submitted to a
good hard spanking from one of them as proxy for her mother or father. What Lisa
didn't want was to be expected to have sex afterwards with one of the members so
she opted to talk about how her mother was the disciplinarian in their family.
The result of the communal thinking was that Meridith, one of the older female
members of the novice group would punish Cathy.
There was no help for it. Meridith sat on a chair and Cathy had to lift her
skirts and lay across Meridith's lap. Some one handed Meridith a small paddle.
Lisa tensed as Meridith drew down Lisa's panties to her knees exposing a pert
and very sexy little rear end. No set number of spanks was announced. Instead
the group leader brought out a timer and announced that it was set for 5
minutes.
"A good hard spanking for a full five minutes should be a proper punishment for
you, Cathy," she announced. To Meridith she said, "Make sure that you spank
rapidly and hard, so she receives the full effect. It will not help her if you
go lightly on her. It's for her own good. The cleansing pain of the paddle will
wash away her guilt. Start the timer."
Meridith heeded her words all to well. She brought the little paddle down with
crisp hard swats that resounded off the walls and quickly reddened Lisa's
bobbing fanny. The cute cheeks jiggled with every sharp spank. Spanking on
alternate sides with less than a second between smacks, Meridith quickly reduced
Lisa to the vision of a yelping wriggling teenager enduring a sound motherly
spanking. It looked especially authentic since Lisa looked so young and Meridith
was older.
"God! Her bottom must really be stinging," said Wendy. "Look at how red her ass
is getting." It was true. It did not take long for Lisa's spank spot to look
like a pair of red glowing beacons. Her legs were fluttering uncontrollably
straining against the panties down around her knees. "Oooh, I wonder what that
feels like," breathed Wendy, obviously enthralled with the spectacle. The way
she said it, it sounded like she'd like to trade places.
The spanking seemed to go on and on. Lisa fluttered her legs and wriggled like
an eel as the paddle imprinted its stinging lesson on Lisa's cute spank spot. It
was a rapid-fire right-left-right-left spanking of her wobbling globes that must
have stung atrociously. After awhile the mics were filled with the din of smack!
splat! whap! sounds competing with Lisa's high pitched
"Yow...ahh...ooh...nnhh...yeow...stop!...please!"
When it finally stopped and Meredith let Lisa up she did what looked like an
almost authentic war dance, hopping around from foot to foot and rubbing her
inflamed bottom vigorously, her mouth open in shock at the amount of hot sting
in her nether cheeks imparted by the little paddle.
*******************************************************
We were so wrapped up in watching Lisa get her atonement spanking that I almost
missed seeing Libby Mason walking through the amphitheater. I saw her out of the
corner of my eyes and froze the screen before she disappeared from view. It was
definitely her. With her were two older men and a young guy. One of the older
men had a full head of white hair, a short beard, and wore a purple robe. Noah
Chrossman himself. I recognized him from pictures. I guessed the younger guy was
Trey, the boyfriend. I didn't know who the third guy was, but I had a hunch.
I attached the frame captures to an email message and sent it to Jane with
instructions. Meanwhile there was mail from Henry. Corpun thought they had made
progress on finding Libby and they wanted to talk to both Henry and Jessica at
The Greenbrier, a posh resort in Southern West Virginia. Henry and Jessica were
on their way there. I could not reach them by phone.
When Jane received my email, she called me back. "What do I do with this, boss?"
"Get two things--search for photographs of all officers and board members of
Corpun, and get their home addresses. Send them here ASAP."
When I hung up, Wendy said, "She calls you boss? How cute. She sure seems
determined to keep you happy. Very efficient."
I told her how I maintained that efficiency just to see Wendy's reaction. Her
eyes grew as big as saucers. "Are you kidding? You keep a log of her mistakes
and punish her...ah...physically? And she wants it that way?"
I explained the rather odd dynamic between us, leaving out the sex part, of
course. Wendy licked her lips. "What do you actually do?" she asked.
I explained how I usually just put her across my knee and spanked her soundly
and how that seemed to set things right.
Wendy was clearly intrigued, but our conversation was interrupted by the return
of Bill and Jim.
"We found the Punishment Hut," said Bill, "and another building right next to it
with some strange machine inside. Take a look while we pull it up on the
monitor."
I wanted to know how they got inside undetected to install the bugs. "I was a
spook, remember?" he said with a broad smile. "Anyway, it was not guarded."
They switched inputs and two new views came up. The first was of a room with a
high ceiling, bare walls and cement floor and several devices for restraint
placed around the room. There were boxes painted on the floor connecting a
square. Inside the square were several short boxes each with a T-bar coming up
about a foot from the floor. On a far wall hung a variety of ominous looking
implements-- paddles, straps, leather or rubber covered switches, I couldn't
tell. In front of the painted square was a dias upon which rested a curved bench
with five chairs where a tribunal might sit in judgment of the condemned. In the
shadows to the back of the room was an apparatus that looked vaguely
familiar--it was a copy of Henry's spanking machine.
The other view was even more instructive. The machine Bill had described was
also an attempt at a copy of Henry's spanking machine. It lacked a number of
refinements. Noticeably it did not have the sexual attachments. There were
packing boxes on the floor, as if the machine were being moved.
"Can you zoom in on the slip on the side of the packing box?" I asked.
"Sure," said Wendy. "Here. The image grew larger and came into focus."
"Freeze that," I said. It was an address in Great Falls Virginia, but the
remainder of it was blurred. I needed to get into that building for a closer
look. I composed a hasty email to Jane and brought Bill up to speed. Given that
I had to wait for data from Jane and that Bill had to wait for a message from
Lisa, there was nothing much to be done, so we waited. After several frustrating
hours of hearing nothing our wait came to an end.
In the view of the Punishment Hut, we saw the doors open. Four novices were
escorted inside by two men and two women wearing military looking garb. They
were followed by five robed figures with cowls pulled over their heads to hide
their faces. The leader of the female guard detail was Anna Klochek. The four
novices were a red-haired woman of about 25 and a male of about the same age.
The other two were Lisa Tallmadge and Elaine Kraft, and they looked terrified.

Atonement Chapter 9
Each of the four were made to stand on the small squares laid out like a diamond
in the center of the large hut. The robed figures took seats behind a
semicircular desk on a raised dias like some grim scene from the Inquisition.
The figure in the center addressed the four.
"Your devotion to the Church, novice sisters and brother, has been called into
question. Therefore to ascend to the next level, you will have to prove
yourselves worthy."
We wondered what had happened. Had Lisa been found out? Had she tried to talk
Elaine into leaving and had been overheard? Clearly it was Bill's objective to
extricate Elaine from this cult, but all of us had known that given the
psychology of an impressionable newcomer, Elaine might not want to leave. And we
knew it would not help to go charging in. That could even backfire. All we could
do was to watch the bizarre scene unfold on its own.
His next command was startling in its simplicity and menace. "Disrobe.
Completely."
The four stood still like they were in shock.
"You have heard the order of Confessor Steven," said Anna Klochek harshly. "Take
off all your clothes. Immediately." This was a different attitude from the
Church of Atonement. No longer a warm and fuzzy guilt remission or even a fair
and just penalty for some minor transgression, this sounded like these novices
were in for something serious.
Confessor Steven. Well that meant that it wasn't Chrossman, the big cheese. I
wondered where he was, and where Libby was, but it would have to wait.
Looking at one another nervously, the four began to strip. The women were very
attractive. Lisa was petite and athletic. Elaine was taller and long-waisted but
had wide hips and nice legs. The redhead whose name I didn't know was slender
and willowy with a smallish top but a full and round pouty derriere. The guy was
handsome--brown curly hair, a medium build, maybe kind of thin. All of them
clearly met the cult standard for attractiveness. Why did this cult accept only
good looking people?
After a few anxious moments of clothes being discarded, the four stood there
naked and shivering. Under the gaze of the five hooded figures they stood there
waiting and casting nervous glances about the room. The head "Confessor" then
spoke, "Alicia Cole, you were discovered consorting with this young man, Curt
Smoltz. This was forbidden except pursuant to a ritual atonement, novice sister.
You were aware of this rule, were you not?"
"I-I...er yes, sir," squeaked Alicia.
"And you, novice brother," said the robed figure, turning to Curt, "you knew it
was forbidden to touch a sister except as ordered by your house matron or your
group facilitators." It was not a question.
"Ah...well, we thought...," he started then sagged and gave up. "Yes, we knew
the rule."
"The pleasure that remits the necessary pain of atonement is for us and us alone
to permit. By taking it upon yourselves to engage in these relations you have
violated a strict rule of our order. You must be punished for this. Do you
accept your just punishment for this infraction?"
Both Curt and Alicia looked at each other for a moment then nodded.
"Very well. Sister Anna will punish you properly as befits your offense. You
will obey her without hesitation."
Anna Klochek strode to the center of the room and spoke to the two. "Both of
you, stand in front of those boxes with the T-bars. Do it now," she barked.
"Quickly."
Curt and Alicia walked up to the T-bars. They stepped into holes in the boxes.
The way the T-bars were arranged, they faced each other, about 6 feet apart.
"Sister" Klocheck's assistants slid a slat into the rear of each box effectively
locking them in. Anna walked to the wall and selected a wooden paddle, about 18"
long and 4" wide. It was made of some composite about a quarter of an inch
thick. She walked behind Alicia who could only stand there, trembling.
"Bend over and grab the bar, both of you" she ordered. They obeyed. Given the
bar's height, they were bent at a 90 degree angle at the hips. "Look in each
other's eyes now," commanded the blonde with the paddle. She tapped Alicia's
seat with the paddle. It looked like she flinched. Then Anna drew her arm back
and delivered a scorching swat to Alicia's tender bottom. The sound of the
paddle landing on resilient bare female fanny was like a loud gunshot. Alicia's
fanny wobbled with the impact and she screamed in pain. "Hold on to the bar,"
cautioned Anna, and she laid on another ferocious crack with the paddle. Alicia
cried out again. At the third hard shot she let go and half stood up.
"P-please, I can't... " she wailed.
"You will," said Anna coldly. "Now BEND OVER!"
A reluctant Alicia bent over, presenting her hindquarters to receive the kiss of
the paddle once again. She gripped the bar tightly. Anna took carefully measured
aim with the paddle and drew back her arm. The paddle whooshed through the air
in an arc and landed flat across the crowns of Alicia's sit spot.
CRACK! Her bottom wobbled and she let out a pitiful cry.
The paddle whooshed again and landed with a loud SMACK!
"Oh...oh....oh.." was all Alicia could bleat.
Then the blonde mistress moved over to behind Curt and tapped his buttocks with
the paddle. He jumped as he felt the touch of the wood. "Hold on. Look straight
ahead--into her eyes, so she will see your pain." Curt gritted his teeth,
steeling himself for the ordeal.
She administered five hard shots to Curt's buttocks, spaced about ten seconds
apart. Curt hissed and grunted in pain as each searing lick landed, but had the
fortitude not to let go.
His eyes, like those of Alicia had welled up with tears.
Both Curt and Alicia were breathing heavily wincing with pain. Anna Klochek
paced slowly back over to Alicia. She took her stance behind Alicia and to her
right. Five more times the wicked paddle cracked down onto Alicia's ass-- now a
flaming red. The girl was starting to cry now. She fought to hold onto the bar.
Then Curt took five more hard licks. He hissed through his teeth at the awful
sting of the hard paddle smacking his defenseless buttocks.
Anna Klocheck walked between them. Their eyes followed her nervously. They dared
not let go of the bar and remained bent over, their painfully reddened bare
bottoms on lurid display.
"You may rise," she told them. "Bring the frame," she said motioning to her
assistants. The two other women moved smartly to do her bidding. From a
storeroom in the back they wheeled into the center of the room a contraption
that looked like a stepladder with padded crosspieces on both sides and braces
between the two inclined frames that formed an A-shaped apparatus.
"Secure them," she ordered, "and prepare a pleasure pad for the female." I saw
one assistant smirk at this order. They unlocked the T-bars and brought the pair
to the frame. Curt was secured straight up leaning along the inclined runners. I
noticed that his penis was partly turgid and it bobbed as he moved. They secured
Alicia to the frame and then brought in a padded crosspiece that had a stout
looking rubber dildo secured to it, pointing straight up. Alicia's eyes grew
wide as the guard positioned the rubber phallus at the entrance to her quim.
There was some sort of internal slider mechanism on the ladder turned by a
crank. As Anna Klochek turned the handle, the dildo slid into Alicia's pussy.
She moaned, partly in embarrassment and partly in pleasure. The next command was
even more electrifying.
"Bend over Alicia, and take Curt's penis into your mouth. Do it now girl," she
barked, noting Alicia's hesitation. Alicia looked around the room, wild eyed.
"Take his cock in your mouth girl," Sister Anna barked. Alicia gingerly slid the
glans of his penis between her lips. Curt visibly stiffened. "Now pleasure him,"
Anna commanded. Alicia started sucking on Curt's penis, running her lips up and
down the shaft. At the same time she rocked her pelvis, impaling herself on the
dildo and rubbing her clit against the rough textured base.
We watched the scene completely enthralled. After paddling the two miscreants
the mysterious robed figures were ordering them to do the very thing that got
them into trouble. Alicia was giving Curt a noisy and vigorous blow job. Wet
slurping sounds were clearly audible as was Curt's moaning as he involuntarily
rocked his hips in time to Alicia's sucking.
In the middle of all this, Anna Klochek nodded to her two assistants who walked
over to the wall and selected a pair of leather plaited switches. They moved
behind the pair bound to the frame. Curt and Alicia froze momentarily when they
felt the tapered switches touch their tender bottoms.
"No one told you to stop," said "Sister" Klochek. "You will now be switched and
while you are being punished you will continue what you are doing. And...", she
paused for effect, "the switching will not stop until you both reach climax."
Alicia shuddered but resumed the slurping blow job with a renewed sense of
urgency. Curt moaned and pumped his hips. Klochek's two female assistants drew
back their arms.
Swick! Swick! Swick! The licks from the switches fell rapidly--brisk wristy
strokes that landed on both sets of squirming buttocks. Alicia screamed shrilly,
and for a moment Curt's turgid cock popped out of her mouth and bobbed obscenely
before Alicia could gather herself and resume. Curt's hips jerked each time the
switch landed, forcing his shaft deeper into Alicia's mouth. She made glugging
sounds and writhed on the upright dildo as the stinging whicks of the switch
tortured her well-reddened fanny. The switching went on for several minutes. It
must have been an exquisite torture for the pair, poised on the cusp of sexual
climax while being whipped. Their movements grew more frantic until Curt moaned
loudly and his whole body stiffened. We could see the spasms of climax making
his body jerk like a puppet on a string. All the while Alicia pumped her hips
shamelessly and sucked Curt's cock with abandon. She too stiffened and her body
quivered spasmodically, jerking around on the impaling dildo. Anna commanded the
whippers to stop. Both Alicia and Curt hung limply on the frame, totally spent.
The "chief inquisitor" spoke.
"Pleasure to soothe the pain of atonement is for we and we alone to decree. Do
you now understand this?"
Both Alicia and Curt managed a weak "yes".
"Release them," he said, "and return them to their quarters."
Another attendant released the pair from the frame and helped them get their
clothes on. Without another word they were led out. Attention turned to Elaine
and Lisa.
"You have been overheard," said the cowled figure, "discussing erroneous
doctrine, voicing doubts as to the authenticity of the word of Reverend
Chrossman. You are leading each other astray."
Lisa spoke up. "N-no, sir, we're not..we believe in the, ah, holy church
doctrine. We..."
"Silence, child. Do not deny these things. And you, novice Elaine, do you deny
speaking about these things?"
"Ah...you see, well we talked, and maybe..."
"You see my children, and you are children in the eyes of the church, these
thoughts, these doubts, talk of running away, it is the Evil One tempting you.
Do you see that?" His voice was softer now, soothing. It was a tone of concern
for their spiritual well-being.
Lisa did not want to blow her cover. Maybe she needed more time to work on
Elaine. But someone had heard something and reported them. She took a deep
breath and said, "We are sorry sir, ah, Stephen and we..."
"That is good child, for you can atone for your wayward thoughts, before this
assembly, and return to your home in our midst. Do you accept the cleansing
punishment of atonement, wayward sisters?"
Lisa and Elaine looked at each other. Lisa knew there was no way out of this. We
watched transfixed as she said "yes".
"Your punishment will be different. We will use the machines. Bring two machines
to the center of the square," said Stephen to Anna Klochek's two male
assistants. So the machine was operative, I thought.
The two moved to do his bidding and dragged a pair of machines into the square.
I saw immediately it was not exact, but a near copy of Henry's machine. The
machines consisted of a kneeling bench, like a leg curl bench in a health club,
with an upright enclosure to one side. An arm extended from the enclosure. There
was a console on the other side with electronic controls on it. It was lacking
the monitor and the laser range finder. I surmised that it was a mechanical
version of Henry's and lacked the sophisticated software. The girls eyed the
strange contraptions fearfully.
"For your penance you will be placed in the punishment machine until we feel
you have made proper atonement. Hans and Jorge," said Stephen, addressing the
two young men in the psuedo-military uniforms, "place these novices in the
mnachine and fit them with the leather paddles as Sister Anna directs."
The two men smiled, and procured the small leather oval paddles from hooks on
the wall. One took Lisa by the arm and the other took Elaine. Before the girls
could react, Hans and Jorge had taken them to the benches and had flipped the
two naked girls face down across the padded surface. Pinioning each securely
with a securing strap across the back and behind the knees, they inserted the
paddles into sockets on the arms and waited for a command to begin. The
flustered girls wriggled and twitched, their legs waving in the air. Hans and
Jorge each fiddled with the controls. There was a whirring sound as the arms
moved the paddles to press them squarely against the sweet spot on each girl's
bottom. When the calibration had been finished, each man nodded to Anna. Anna
produced an hourglass with sand in it and set it on a low table in front of the
girls.
"When I turn the glass over, start the machine. When the sands run out, you will
stop it." Lisa and Elaine stared at the glass in alarm. We looked at each other
with a grimace. There was a lot of sand in that hourglass. "You may begin," she
said, flipping over the hourglass.
Hans and Jorge each pushed a button. The machine began to make a whirring noise
and each arm drew back. The articulated arms moved with surprising speed and
fluidity and commenced a brisk smacking of the girls' fannies. The splat of
leather on female behinds resounded through our monitors. Lisa had closed her
eyes and was trying to endure her whacking stoically. Elaine was squirming and
emitting little yelps. The paddles, I noticed did not look all that severe. The
leather hit with a dull whop, which had the sound of a bedroom slipper. Still,
it must have stung. It was certainly embarrassing for young women in their
twenties to be secured nude across the pads to have their fannies smacked like
children. And to be sure they were getting a good smacking. The paddles cracked
down causing bottoms to jiggle and legs to flail. Elaine had the fuller bottom
and the paddle caused definite ripples in the flesh when it struck. Lisa's fanny
was smaller and more muscled, but it too was getting a sound tanning under the
rapid fire barrage of smacks from the spanking machine. When the sand finally
ran out 5 minutes later, both sets of bottomcheeks were a hot pink color.
"You have both been prepared--now for your real punishment," said the chief
inquisitor. "Fit the machines with number 2 switches."
Elaine and Lisa reacted with startled surprise that the ordeal was not over.
They craned their necks trying to see what Hans and Jorge were selecting from
the wall. The men each took a thin rod made of some synthetic material. It could
have been fiberglass or a hard whippy plastic. They locked these implements into
the sockets on the machines, and went through the calibration routine again.
"Now my little novices," said Anna with an evil smirk, "now you will discover
what atonement is really all about." To the men she said, "Set it for three
minutes on rapid automatic, intensity level 7." I didn't like the sound of that.
Was 10 the highest?
When the settings had been made she said, "All right. Begin."
Lisa gritted her teeth. Elaine lowered her head. The machine arms pivoted and
whipped the switches down. They landed with a crisp splat! against the girl's
backsides. Then in the blink of an eye, whick! whick! whick! the switches fell
hard and fast. The girls' reaction was immediate.
"Ow...yow...hooo...make it stop...please, it hurts!" Both girls yelped and cried
at the sudden fiery onslaught. They wiggled their backsides and kicked their
legs as much as the straps would allow. It looked like the degree of pain
imparted to their seats by the rapid switching was something they were totally
unprepared for. Anna Klochek and the robed Confessors gazed on in stoney silence
as the girls blubbered and pleaded for mercy. For three awful minutes the
relentless machines whipped the wriggling buttocks of the unfortunate girls.
Thin red lines merged into a mass of fiery welts as the switches' constant
whick! whick! whick! traversed from the top of the thighs to past the crowns of
their tender seats and then back down again. At three minutes the machines
abruptly stopped. Lisa and Elaine were sobbing and crying in pain.
"I trust you now see the error of your ways, my novice sisters. I hope we will
not have to punish you in this way again."
"Y-yes, sir. Oh no you won't," said Lisa. "Please let us go?"
"After you have experienced a more personal touch," said Confessor Steven,
smiling. The smarmy bastard, he was enjoying this. To Hans and Jorge he said,
"Put them on the pleasure frame--use the deerskin floggers. Make them cum."
Hans and Jorge lifted the blushing mortified girls to their feet. In the
meantime, two sets of a different looking apparatus were being wheeled into
place. Each looked like a frame with a waist high padded horizontal bar
extending from an upright post. On the end was a black rubber penis and a series
of nubs or ridges forward at the base of the dildo. Hans and Jorge led the girls
to each frame and made them straddle the bar impaled on the dildoes. They then
secured them lying lengthwise along the bar. Their hands were tied to the post.
This put them in a bent over posture with the bar supporting their tummies and
upper body while their bottoms arched out over the end of the bar, their feet
touching the ground. In this posture they could raise and lower themselves on
the phallic members and rub their clits against the little nubs.
With wrists secured to the post and feet in manacles both girls awaited the
whipping. Hans and Jorge under direction from Sister Klochek selected
multi-thonged floggers from the wall and approached the bound novices who were
tearfully looking over their shoulders. Perhaps it was the enforced nudity,
perhaps it was the heat from the childish spanking or the heat from the
switching, but both women were squirming and moving against the frames before
even the first lash fell.
I now understood. The whole idea had been to punish and to release sexual
pleasure at the same time, to blend the two together so that a penitent could
not tell where one ended and the other began. The command was given to commence
the flogging and the whips fell at measured intervals. The thongs spread out
across hot flushed bottoms that jerked at impact and bodies writhed against the
padded frames. As the whipping continued both women began to rock their
pelvises, humping the bar in an imitation of the love act, the delicious
friction driving them toward orgasm, spurred on by the steady application of the
lash. If they slowed down, a few lashes urged them to pleasure themselves
against the bar. After several minutes the flogging was halted. Both bottoms
were streaked with red and purple welts. Elaine and Lisa had squirmed furiously
and it looked like both had come to climax at least once. When they were
released, the end of each rubber phallus with its little nub was glistening with
slick fluid where their pussies had been.
"Now, novice sisters, you have been punished. Do you wish to return to your
group homes to resume your communion with our order?" said Stephen. I was
beginning to think of him as "Sir" Stephen at this point.
Both girls managed a weak "yes", probably more from exhaustion brought on by the
ordeal than anything else. In my mind we had another clue. The punishment hut
was a place of punishment and a place of conditioning--conditioning to associate
the pain of "atonement" with sexual pleasure. But to what end I wondered? I had
to put aside my musings though. What I needed was a closer look at the machine
in the other building. Was that one closer to Henry's final design? Had they
replicated it? This time there was no help for it--I was going to have to go in.
How to do it undetected, that was the question. As we watched the robed "elders"
or "elite" or whatever they were exit the hut, a plan began to form.

Atonement Ch 10
What I had noticed was that the hooded robes worn by many of the residents of
this odd commune made them seem anonymous. It was common see these robed figures
walking from place to place within camera view like they were tourists.
Sometimes they were accompanied by comely women (and sometimes by young men) in
what appeared to be a short tunic, like a Hollywood version of a Roman slave
costume. The robes were mostly a light gray, although a few were colored. It
must be some indication of rank. Stephen, the inquisitor in the Punishment Hut,
had worn green.
Lisa was able to report to us the afternoon after her visit to the Punishment
Hut. "I'm sleeping on my tummy, that's for sure. My ass is red as a beet and
feels prickly," she said from her closet hiding place.
"But are you ok?" asked Will. "That was some licking you took."
"Yeah, I'm ok. It was really bad, though. I've never felt anything like that
whipping in the machine with that switch. I would have done anything to make it
stop. I guess you noticed it got rather sexual though."
"We saw that."
Lisa shook her head. "Ohmigod...Will, they put us on those...those...things. I
came twice while it was happening. I don't know what to say."
"It's ok--what about Elaine?"
"She's actually kind of torn. She was ready to leave but now she thinks maybe
she should stay. She says they are talking about some initiation ceremony and
then she will be a Handmaiden."
"What's a Handmaiden?"
"I think it's those men and women in tunics who trot around after the Confessors
and the Elite, the guys in the robes. I think they sort of serve them and maybe
they are sexual partners...I'm not sure."
"We're just going to have to pull her out. Make it look like she flew the coop
on her own--you too," Will added.
"I'm ready. Two spankings and a switching in two days. It's like I'm 12 again
and mom's on the warpath. This is too intense for me."
"Listen, Lisa, we need something. Rollin, the guy who came with us, wants to
know if you can put your hands on one of those robes, and if you could make a
key mold for the building in back of the Punishment Hut."
Lisa said she thought she could. There was a communal laundry of sorts and lots
of them were around. She could do the key in 15 seconds so the trick was not
being noticed. She made arrangements with Will to have Elaine near the perimeter
of the compound on some pretext. They would do an abduction there and send her
back to her father. I hoped that he didn't plan on giving her a spanking when
she got home. From the looks of it, she had enjoyed herself.
I snuck through the woods with Jim and Will to an area near a path behind the
cabins. I was fitted with a wireless mic so that anything anyone said to me
would be transmitted back to camp and recorded. Sure enough, Lisa and Elaine
were there. They couldn't risk a scene with Elaine. Before she even knew what
was happening Jim had grabbed her from behind and inserted a syringe in her arm.
She collapsed like a ton of bricks. As Jim put her in a fireman's carry, Lisa
handed me a cowled robe, a grey one. Perfect. I could get to the building and
examine the machine inside more closely by pretending to be one of the robed
brethren. It would only take an hour and it was dark anyway so I'd be in and out
before anyone caught on. After the rendezvous with Lisa, Will had given me a key
made from an impression on a resin compound that Lisa had jammed into the lock.
More high tech wizardry.
I donned the robe and strolled back onto the grounds, heading in general for the
Punishment Hut. The trick is to look like you know where you're going and what
you are doing. I didn't want to look hesitant or confused, something that might
prompt someone to be "helpful". I was in sight of the building when I was hailed
by one of the "Lictors", the church's enforcement arm under the spartan
direction of Ms Klochek. This particular woman, in the quasi-military garb of
starched blouse, tan shorts and Sam Browne belt was accompanied by a quite
lovely woman in one of the skimpy tunics worn by the Handmaidens.
"I beg your pardon, Confessor...," she began, "but this Handmaiden, Sister Lynne
is due for her weekly confession and penance. If you are not otherwise engaged
could you see to her? You may use one of the cabins down the path from the
Punishment Hut. I was supposed to take her to see Confessor Robert but he has
been called away."
Sister Lynne was a pretty and slender bottle blonde with long hair combed to one
side and short bangs covering her forehead. She gave me a shy smile and clasped
her hands in front of her demurely. She had terrific legs. There was no help for
it, I had to play along. I could get inside one of these cabins, put Lynne in
the corner or something for her "penance" and slip out to the locked building.
"Of course, officer..." I read her name tag, "Cheryl".
"That's Lictor Cheryl, Confessor. We are called Lictors here."
"Yes, of course," I said, feeling like an idiot. But oddly, she seemed to accept
my mistake and take it in stride. Were the Confessors not residents here, but
visitors? Even so, you would think that as church elite they knew this stuff.
She led the way down the path to a cabin and unlocked it, ushering us in. Inside
was a room with a bed like a hotel room. But there were some extra features
surely not found at Motel 6. There was a padded stool and a padded sawhorse,
both with buckling straps and padded cuffs on the legs. Along the wall was a St
Andrews cross and a sturdy straightbacked chair. A pair of manacles hung from
the ceiling on a pulley and there was a low padded table with buckling straps
attached to it. On hooks were a variety of paddles, floggers, straps and
switches. On another table were various dildos and buttplugs along with jars and
tubes of creams, lotions and gels. A guy and gal could have a fine old Saturday
night in here.
"I will leave you now with Sister Lynne," she said with a broad smile. "Give her
a real penance, she has been a naughty girl." She left, closing the door behind
her. I decided to try and fake it.
"Sooo...Sister Lynne, you wish to confess to me?"
"Oh yes, Confessor. But first, can I ask you something?"
"Anything, ah, my child," I said in my best stentorian voice.
"Promise me," she said in a low whisper, twisting her fingers together and
licking her lips, "promise me you'll punish me hard. And then you'll...take me,
make me do things. I'll do anything."
I stepped back, stunned. Here was this attractive woman, in her early 20's I
guessed, and she wanted to be punished. Hard, she said. I was trying to stay on
task but I had to play a role here so as not to arouse suspicion.
" Ah, very well, Sister Lynne, what is that you've done and, uh, how many
weeks has it been since your last confession?" My Catholic schoolboy
conditioning was kicking in.
Lynne took a big breath. "I-I've been...that is, I've p-pleasured myself. At
night. When no one was looking. And I've been having terrible thoughts
about...doing it."
"I see," I countered gravely. "This is indeed serious. I an glad you have
confided in me. We must, however, begin your penance. The cleansing pain of
atonement will drive these evil thoughts and deeds away." I'd heard enough of
the lingo so this sounded right. I figured to give her the good spanking she
obviously wanted and then plan a hasty exit, so I walked over to the chair and
moved it into the center of the room.
"Stand at my side, Lynne," I said after seating myself. She moved obediently to
my right side and stood, waiting. "Get across my knee, girl," I commanded. She
hastened to obey, lowering herself face down over my thighs. After several days
in the woods watching the proceedings in the commune, the contact of Lynne's
soft body over my knee gave me an instant erection. The little tunic rode up the
back of her thighs. She had very nice legs. I flipped the little tunic up,
uncovering her seat. Her ass was beautiful. The twin cheeks jutted skyward,
attractively contained by silky white tap pants. She had a very full bottom for
a thin girl and the lower part of her bottom cheeks peeked out the bottom of the
tap pants.
"Are you ready, Sister Lynne," I said rubbing her hind cheeks in circles with my
palm. She squirmed and moaned a breathless, "Yes, sir."
I started spanking the chubby cheeks briskly, alternating sides. She moaned and
rubbed her thighs together. Her ass was wonderfully soft and resilient. After
about 25 or 30 swats, I stopped and moved my hand to the elastic waistband of
the pretty tap pants. Her response was to lift her body slightly permitting me
to slip the pants to her knees. Her bare bottom was gorgeous--well proportioned
round globes that now bore tell-tale reddish handprints. I rubbed the splendid
cheeks then resumed the chastisement spanking with a constant rhythm. Her
response was to bob her ass up and down, almost as if seeking to meet my
descending hand. The sound of the steady smack! smack! smack! of my palm filled
the little cabin. After about a hundred good smacks her bottom was red, my palm
was stinging and she was breathing heavily. I moved my hand down between her
legs. As I suspected, her quim was slick with arousal. She stiffened as my
fingers found her moist slit and she almost purred with pleasure as I
manipulated her swollen clit.
"Oh...oh...sir," she croaked, humping her mons against my hand. I kept it up for
a few moments then stopped.
"Is that what you felt Sister? Lust?"
"Oh, yes, yes. Oh, it was wicked. I-I should be punished harder, sir." She was
panting with desire. Obviously this was going to take longer than I thought.
"Rise, Sister Lynne and remove your tunic," I said as I helped her up. She slid
the flimsy garmet over her head. Underneath she was naked. Her breasts were not
large but they were nicely shaped. Her nipples were hard nubs. Slim hips flared
out from her narrow waist giving her a lithe figure that had curves in just the
right places.
I was playing to her needs, so I said, "Go to the wall and select an implement
for me to punish you with."
She walked to the wall, her delicious bottom swaying. She paused and looked,
then selected an oval leather paddle. Returning, she knelt before me and
presented the leather paddle on outstretched arms, palms up. "Please punish me,
Confessor, so that I may atone and my guilt be relieved."
I took the paddle. "Stand Sister and prostrate yourself across the stool."
She rose and bent across the padded stool, gripping the legs, her feet about a
foot apart. "You will count to twenty, Sister Lynne, and with each stroke you
will feel the guilt melt away. They will be hard ones."
"Oh...yes sir." She sounded eager.
I tapped her seat with the paddle a few times to line it up and then hit her
with it hard square across the center of her buttocks. The paddle landed with a
loud Whap! Her ass cheeks jiggled. "Oooh, one sir" Whap! "Two, sir". Whap!.....
I wielded the paddle smoothly, smacking her delightful bottom with steady
strokes, spaced a second or two apart with a brief pause after each three. Her
cheeks rippled as I hit, then rebounded. The lower summits of her jouncy ovals
were becoming quite red and I imagined it was stinging some. Her counting was
becoming a bit higher pitched. It was hard to tell if it was pain or lust. I was
betting on lust.
I finished the twenty and told her not to move. On the table was lifelike rubber
penis. I smeared some lubricant on it and returned to Lynne still bent over. "Is
this what you did?" I said, inserting the dildo into her vagina.
"Oooo...yes sir," she moaned. I pistoned the phallus in and out while I held her
body down over the stool with my left hand. She squirmed with pleasure. I
increased the pace of my stroking and was rewarded when she went into humping
spasms that could only mean orgasm. When she laid limp over the stool I stopped.
She turned her face toward me. "Please, sir, let me pleasure you."
Well, when in Rome...
I sat in the chair and hoisted my robe up. She knelt between my legs and
unzipped my fly. Reaching in, she pulled my painfully swollen member free and
gingerly held it between her palms. She bent her head and took me into her
mouth. Softly at first, then more vigorously, she swirled her tongue around the
the shaft. I watched as she slid her lips back and forth along the plum-shaped
head sending bolts of pure pleasure up and down my spine. When I thought I might
lose it, I pulled her head back.
"Up," I said hoarsely, pulling her to her feet. I knew that so far her
punishment had not been that intense and that she craved more. I put her hands
in the cuffs hanging from the ceiling and cranked the winch pulling her arms
above her head. Next, I selected a black leather-covered switch hanging on the
wall. She turned around to look over her shoulder as I first tested one then
another switch. They each made a whining noise as I swished them through the air
experimentally. I settled on a thin whippy one. She winced as I whipped it down
in a sharp slashing motion testing its flex. It would do.
"True atonement, Sister Lynne, calls for a degree of severity that you are not
comfortable with. Do you understand this?" She nodded. She knew that up to now
her "punishment" had been a nice fanny warming--an erotic interlude. But I had
to act like I thought these Confessors would or she would mention it to someone
else. I wasn't ready to have my cover blown just yet.
"You will receive 9 strokes, Sister Lynne, and you will count each one. Are you
ready?"
"Y-yes, sir," she answered.
"Very well. Lean over and present your buttocks, girl." She complied, hollowing
out the small of her back so that her bottom jutted back, the red flushed
hemispheres spreading out rounding themselves as if eagerly awaiting the whip. I
decided these had to be firm. Swick! I brought the switch down square across the
crowns of her pouting seat. She flinched and her knees bent a little.
"Oh...one," she hissed. Swick! Another red line painted across her succulent
rump. "Owww....two," was her response. At intervals of 10 -15 seconds I whipped
her bottom with brisk strokes of the switch, trying to land each one evenly
across the presented cheeks. She cried out. She sagged in her bonds. She sifted
her weight from foot to foot vainly trying to alleviate the sting of the switch
across her fanny.
After 9 strokes had been administered her ass was striated with thin red weals.
Judging by her cries, it had been an effective punishment. It was now time for
comforting. Retaining the robe, I slipped off my pants. My cock was pointing
straight out forming a tent in the robe. "Do you wish to be comforted, Sister?"
I asked. I stood behind her, my body pressed against her hot ass, my hands
reaching around tweaking the erect nipples. "Please," she croaked. There were
condoms on the table. I slipped one on to my cock and moved behind her. I raised
my robe and placed my hands on her hips. Then I bent my knees slightly and
guided my hard shaft to the entrance of her vagina. When she felt the head of my
knob seeking entry she shifted her body to accommodate me and I slid in. She was
wonderfully tight, yet fully lubricated. I started thrusting my pelvis against
the soft cheeks of her bottom. She hollowed her back even more and spread her
legs. I thrust in deeper. She moaned. I tried to go slow but the friction of my
cock in the tight tunnel of her quim was going to make me cum, so I picked up
the pace. Having orgasmed once already she was sensitized to the sensation of
being fucked and from the motion of her body and the sounds she made I knew she
was close. We came together bucking and writhing furiously.
I took her out of the cuffs and made her stand in the corner blindfolded. I told
her not to move, that I would return in an hour. I figured that gave me enough
time. After readjusting my clothes I was out the door, headed for the mysterious
building next to the Punishment Hut.

Atonement Ch 11
I slipped out of the cabin leaving the delectable Lynne standing obediently in
the corner rubbing a bright red fanny. The locked building wasn't far away and I
managed to get there and get inside undetected. I flicked on a flashlight I had
carried in my pants and swept it around the room. Henry's machine--as near as I
could recall, nearly an exact copy, stood in the center of the room. And unlike
the manual machines in the Punishment Hut, this one had all the features of the
one at Henry's house. I realized that it may have been relatively easy to
reverse-engineer the more mundane mechanical aspects of the machine. Hence the
fully operational machines in the next building. But the electronics and
software controls, that was different. It looked like they had tried, but
couldn't make it work.
I noted that it looked like the machine was being taken apart--or put back
together. Pieces were in packing boxes that bore the blurry address label I had
seen on the video. I noted the address, a street address in Great Falls, Va.
Then it hit me. I began to have an idea as to why it was being shipped there.
Time to go. I had what I needed. I exited by the door and locked it behind me.
Heading down the path where I came in, I hoped to avoid any further encounters
with Lictors, Confessors, Handmaidens and any other denizens of this wacky cult.
No such luck. I saw one of my robed brethren coming my way.
"Harry...Harry," he whispered urgently. "Is that you?" His hood covered his
head, as did mine.
I had to brazen it out, but noted that he didn't look or sound like he belonged
here either. "Ah, no, I'm not Harry," I said.
"Then who..."
"Leonard Shatner," I said, extending my hand. "Pleased to meet you. I was just
on my way..."
"To the initiation? I'm going that way, too--- c'mon. You don't want to miss
this," he chortled. "My name's Bob, by the way."
I fell in with "Bob" heading toward the "initiation", whatever that was, and he
started to talk. "Who were you with?" Before I could answer he forged ahead.
"They gave me this chick named Helen. Let me tell you, she was one hot
number---better even than Celeste who they gave me last month. Well, at ten
grand a pop for a weekend they better be good. I think they have them
conditioned or something. You wear one of these robes and do the spiel they tell
you to and these horney babes will do anything." Abruptly switching subjects he
blurted, "Hey, have you played Mountain Links down in Cherry Grove yet? Me and
some of the 'brother Confessors' are going to try it Sunday. Gotta relax,
y'know. Hey" he said, nudging my ribs, "playing father confessor to all these
fucked up chicks is hard work."
I allowed as how it was hard work, but I told him no, I hadn't made it down to
the golf course yet. I wondered--was that included in the price as part of a
weekend package deal? A couple of Handmaidens, probably a steak dinner, greens
fees for 18 holes. Such a deal. At ten large they probably threw in a bucket of
balls on the range and a Church of Atonement T-shirt for free.
I had felt in my gut that this whole setup had stunk and now I knew. The
Handmaidens were hand picked, probably naive but true believers, they really
thought the path to redemption was in obedience to the commands of any robed
"Confessor". Sell weekends at this commune to corporate fat cats and you have a
nice little money maker. Let the rank and file think they're living in a
religious utopia and make money off the deal.
Now their interest in Henry's machines made more sense. Henry had said that
Jessica was almost addicted to it. Addicted. That was the word he had used. It
would be useful to this church to create a cadre of addicts like that.
I could see we were headed for the ampitheatre. It must have been a commune-wide
event. All kinds of people in all kinds of garb were filling the seats in the
hollowed out hillside venue. On the stage in front were robed clerics wearing
colored robes. There was also a group of uniformed Lictors. At the center of the
stage was an upright whipping post. In front of the post were 3 heavy
straight-backed chairs. I ditched "Bob" in the crowd and stood off to the side
in the shadows to watch.
A purple robed figure approached the lectern and proceeded to read from what I
presumed was the Bible. A hush fell over the crowd. The passages were a mix of
apocalypse and retribution, the kind of stuff the nuns used to use to scare the
bejesus out of us. It all sounded so familiar, "Suffer in this life and be
redeemed in the next." Seems like I heard that one a lot just before Sister Mary
Josephine whopped me with the yardstick. Next, Lictors bearing torches brought
in 3 initiates, two women and one man, all in their early or mid twenties and
wearing long white robes. The initiates were stood in front of the lectern while
the leader went through a ritual question and answer routine with them. When he
was satisfied that they were ready to join the ranks of the true followers, he
announced that their initiation would take them through the stages of their
lives and that they would endure ritual atonement at each stage.
Three Elders in colored robes seated themselves in the chairs. Two were men, one
was a woman. The leader explained that first atonement must be experienced as a
child would experience it and commanded them to remove their robes and prostrate
themselves across the laps of the seated Elders. They were going to get a ritual
public spanking, it looked like. Underneath the gowns they were completely
naked. The three clambered over the knees of the Elders offering up their nude
bottoms for correction. It came swiftly. The Elders were each armed with a short
oval leather paddle like a shoe sole. The leader gave a signal to begin. They
started to vigorously spank the buttocks of the initiates and the sound system
picked up the staccato cracking of the paddles hitting the bare fannies of the
trio. It went on for several minutes and the initiates looked like they felt it.
I saw bodies stiffen and legs flutter in painful reaction to the repeated smacks
from the little paddles. After what must have been 3 or 4 minutes, the leader
signalled a stop and the initiates slumped over the laps of their tormentors,
grateful that it was over.
But it was far from over. The leader announced that adolescence was the next
phase, and the three were told to bend over the backs of the chairs and clutch
the seats. Their rear ends faced the audience. The same Elders were handed what
looked like school paddles by the Lictors and the chief Elder announced that
each initiate would receive ten swats, "Such as you should have experienced as a
teenager".
The swats were delivered slowly and deliberately. This time there was a definite
audible reaction and several anguished yelps accompanied the paddling. Once
again a cacophony cracks and pops, the characteristic dry sound of wood striking
flesh, attested to the pain of the ordeal as the three were paddled like high
school sophomores caught smoking in the bathroom. When the paddling was over,
the chairs were taken away. Now everyone's attention was directed to the
whipping post. And then none other than Anna Klochek bearing an evil looking
multithonged whip walked onto the stage.
She was dressed in tight black leather. The whip was a cat-o-nine tails with
thongs that were at least two and a half feet long. The initiates could not keep
their eyes off of the fearsome implement and the leather clad Ms Klochek seemed
to regard them like cowering prey. This was obviously designed as an
endurance-to-pain ritual. The buttocks of the three must be stinging like crazy
and now they had the prospect of a whipping from this fearsome female Head
Lictor in black leather.
The leader announced that each of the initiates would receive 13 lashes. He
turned to the three and asked if they were ready. They all answered that they
were, but they did not sound as resolute as they had at the beginning.
The first initiate was a well built girl in her mid 20's with shoulder length
brown hair with a well defined waist and a prominent backside. Her hands were
tied above her head and her feet were restrained with cuffs at the foot of the
post. The black-clad Anna Klochek took a stance behind her and swept the thongs
back above her shoulder. There was a hush as the whip swooshed through the air
and fell with a loud thwack! The girl's bottom cheeks rippled and she cried out.
The leader who had a staff in his hand thumped it on the stage and everyone
chanted, "One."
There was a minute's hesitation then, Swisshhh....thwack!
"Ahhhh...", shrieked the girl at the post.
Then thump! "Two", the crowd chanting again.
The whipping fell into a rhythm, the cruel thongs exploding across the reddened
buttocks of the penitent...the cry of anguish...the thump of the staff, and the
mesmerized crowd chanting in unison. The cries grew more shrill as lash after
lash was visited on the girl's welted buttocks. She writhed against the post,
shamelessly wriggling her welted buttocks in tune to the whip, humping the post
like it was a lover. It was a painful whipping, obviously designed to make the
recipient feel like she had endured a serious right of passage.
I scanned the crowd and noticed several robed figures, Confessors, sitting with
scantily clad Handmaidens in abbreviated tunics. I was further surprised to see
that a few were women, escorted by male---what? Handmen? They too wore short
tunics and looked like Roman slaves from a gladiator movie. A few of the
Hand...whatevers slipped to their knees and their heads disappeared beneath the
robes of their Confessor escorts.
I'd seen enough. It was time to get out while everyone else was enthralled with
this ritual lashing spectacle. My mic had been back on since I had left the
private cabin. I hoped it had picked this all up. I made it back to the path
without incident and ditched the robe in a trash can. With some stumbling and
bumbling in the dark, I made my way back.
Wendy was waiting for me back at the camp. Will and Jim had left to return
Elaine to her father. With the Lynne incident and my encounter with "Bob", not
to mention the disappearance of "Cathy Riggs" and Elaine from the commune, I
felt it was time to go. As soon as the initiation ceremony was finished, the
cult leaders would tumble to the fact that something was going on. They might
even start searching the woods. So we packed up what was left and got out.
It was a hard trip down the mountain in the dark loaded with gear, but we got to
the van and took off. I suggested we go North toward Winchester. I wanted to get
out of Pendleton County as soon as possible. There was I was sure, an unholy
alliance between the church and the sheriff's office there.
Exhaustion set in near the Virginia border. I figured we were far enough away
that they wouldn't find us, so Wendy and I crashed at a motel. When we awoke it
was nearly dark again. We'd slept all day. We were both starved, so we went out
to eat. We found a respectable looking diner and ordered some food. Then Wendy,
who'd been quiet, finally piped up.
"You know, I've never seen anything like what we just saw the last few days. I'm
ashamed to admit it, but watching it was a turn on for me."
I told her she wasn't alone, and that I'd known a few women who found spankings
and related activity quite arousing.
"And just how well did you know these women?" she said, arching her brows.
I had previously told her about Jane, so I had to admit that with some of them
it had "gotten Biblical".
"So you're quite experienced in this area," she mused, toying with her food.
"I've been around a little," I admitted.
"Well I must say that it sounded like more than 'a little' with what's-her-name
yesterday when you played father confessor."
Uh-oh, I had left the mic on. She must have heard the whole thing. "I uh, had to
play along, you know. That's the first rule--look and act like you belong." I
knew how this spy business worked.
"Mmmm. Of course. That's it. You had to play along," she said smugly. Then she
switched gears. Eyeing me curiously she said, "Let's go back to our room. I want
to see something."
I shrugged, "Ok, let's go," wondering what she had in mind. But I had a pretty
good idea. We had been in close quarters the last few days and were both aware
that some chemistry had developed between us. The light banter had turned to
flirting and it was starting to look like the flirting was turning to...yeah.
When we got back to the room, she closed the door and turned on the TV. Then she
faced me. "So what does it feel like?" she asked in a husky voice. She was
rubbing her hands up and down her pants legs. Watching all the flagellatory
activity on the monitors would have made Saint Therese's panties moist. Even if
you're not into it, there is something atavistically sexual about a bare bottom
whipping.
"What does what feel like?" I said.
"You know," she whispered with a coy smile. "A spanking. Like you gave to that
girl Lynne?"
Now it was my turn to grin. "Do you want to find out?"
"Maybe. I don't know. It looked sexy. Nobody ever spanked me when I was a kid."
"Well," I said, sitting on the bed, "only one way to find out. Come over here."
She was breathing heavily, excited. "Not too hard, ok? I just want to see what
it's like." I crooked my finger and patted my thighs. She gingerly laid over my
lap, her jeans-clad bottom jutting up. I patted her bottom. "Before we get
started, don't you have anything to atone for?" I said in my mock stentorian
voice.
She giggled, "I did show Billy Smithson my panties for a quarter in third
grade."
"Shocking!" I said, and gave her delightful rear a resounding smack!
"Imagine--raising your dress and showing off your panties to a boy. This
correction is long overdue." Smack! Another solid swat.
"Oooh," she said.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! I gave her four swats quickly on alternating cheeks.
"Hmmm...that actually feels nice."
I said nothing but proceeded to smack her bottom with measured, deliberate
smacks, not too fast, stopping frequently to rub it in. She practically purred
at this treatment at first, then the sting started to build up.
"Ohh...ow...mmm...ahh," she uttered, moving her hips around on my lap. I stopped
after about fourty cracks. My hand was getting the worst of it. Time to up the
ante.
"Ok, stand up," I commanded.
"Are we done?" She sounded disappointed.
"Not by a long shot. Your pants are coming down. I'm wearing my hand out on the
seat of these jeans."
"Take down my pants?" she asked breathlessly.
"Down your knees, Wendy. You want to know what a spanking is like--this is the
way to find out."
"But you'll see my bare hiney," she protested.
"Yeah. Just like Billy Smithson," I shot back. I could see that she was playing,
excited by the prospect.
She thought for a moment, then slowly peeled down her jeans. Then she took them
off completely and tossed them over on the bed. She looked positively delicious
standing there in a tank top that ended above her navel and sheer french cut
panties along with an especially youthful touch, white knee socks.
"Back over again, Wendy," I said with a grin. She laid over my left thigh, her
upper body on the bed. I put my right leg over the backs of her calves and
pushed down on the small of her back making her bottom arch up over my left
thigh. Her curvy fanny was perfectly positioned for a good spanking. The cheeks
were fully exposed as her panties had pulled up into the deep cleft separating
the twin moons leaving her all but bare. "Ok, Wendy, ready? Here we go--now this
is a spanking."
I rubbed my palm in wide circles on her bottom feeling the quivery flesh. Then
smack! Smack! Crack! I brought my hand down in a series medium hard smacks right
on the cheeky crowns of her bottom globes. Her fanny rippled delightfully as I
spanked her with crisp cracks of my palm that had her squirming a bit and making
little "ooh" and "ahhh" sounds. This went on for 100 smacks or so. Then I
stopped and rubbed her ass sensuously, kneading the pinkened mounds. She was
breathing heavily and shivered as my fingers slid gently along the gusset of her
panties between her legs. "Oh, yessss," she hissed. I slid a finger through the
elastic of a leg band into the moist warmth of her pussy.
"Oh, Rollin, yes...mmmm," she moaned.
"Lift up," I said. She lifted up and I yanked her panties down to her knees.
"Are you prepared for atonement, my child?" I asked mockingly.
"Oh, yes Father Rollin, punish me as I deserve."
"Ok," I said plainly. Then I gave her a spanking she'd remember. I clamped my
leg hard over hers and proceeded to baste her little backside good and proper.
She bucked and squealed but did not try to escape as the smacks rained down
turning her bottom a fiery red. I tanned her backside for three or four minutes
without respite.
"Oh, ow, ow,ow...this hurts...oh, God, it stings. Wow, ahhh...ahh." She carried
on as I smacked her jiggling ass relentlessly. I figured she'd asked for the
authentic experience, so I was going to give it to her. She bucked up and down
and wriggled her fanny.
She'd had enough. I slowed the pace down, this time interspersing the smacks
with a lot of rubbing. Her moans changed to whimpers of arousal.
"Nhhh...oh...yessss." She writhed in pleasure as I manipulated her. When I felt
her response to be that of approaching climax I started smacking her bottom
again. Crisp slow open-handed cracks. I punctuated these with a mock lecture.
"Will you act like a lady now?" Smack! "Will you show your panties to boys?"
Smack! Crack!
"Oh...oh...nhhh," she responded. When I sensed she'd reached her limit of
tolerance, I stopped and lifted her to her feet. As she stood her in front of
me, I continued to rub her pussy while her hands found her flaming ass cheeks
and began to rub. I sat back to enjoy the sight of little miss Wendy trying to
ease the sting in her delectable derriere.
She stopped rubbing and gave me a look that was nothing but lust. Then, she
jumped on me, knocking me back on the bed. Grabbing the back of my neck she
pulled my mouth to hers and kissed me passionately. Before I could even react
she was at me like a wild woman. She yanked my clothes off and when had me naked
and on my back, she straddled me, impaling herself on my upright and very stiff
cock. Then she rode me, blissfully moaning as she pinched her own nipples
through the fabric of her tank top. Not satisfied she tore it off, revealing
very nicely shaped breasts. She was bucking up and down and arching forward,
trying to scrape her clitoris against my shaft. The furious fucking couldn't
last. She stiffened in climax and came, jerking around like a woman possessed.
The next time we did it a lot slower. Me on top, she kneeling with me taking her
from behind, like spoons--we tried a bunch of 'em. It was two hours before we
were back on the road. As Wendy slept I had a chance to think of my next move.

Atonement Ch 12
I had an idea of what I needed to do. The first thing I did was to check in with
Will at JLO. Elaine was back home and the family had hired a deprogrammer, but
they also wanted the Church made accountable. He was happy to hear what we had
recorded, especially my conversation with "Bob" which revealed that the whole
setup was little more than high priced prostitution.
I told him I needed somebody to watch Henry's house, and what to look for. I
then gave him the Great Falls address and suggested that he stake it out using
high powered telephoto lenses. This done, it was time to call Henry.
Corpun had suggested that Henry and Jessica meet with them at The Greenbriar, a
ritzy resort in West Virginia. They had promised to help find Libby and had
intimated that they could reunite them there. The story was that they had
suspected that Libby was in jail somewhere and that through their connections
they could secure her release. In the meantime, they wanted to talk to Henry
about sharing rights to his machine. Anyway, that was the story as Henry related
it to me.
"Bullshit," I said, when I got Henry on the line telling me this. "I know where
Libby is, and so do they. She fell in with this Church of Atonement cult."
"Sonofabitch!" He said. "I'm calling the police right now."
I told Henry to calm down, that she was ok. "You'll get Libby back and screw
both these Church bastards and Corpun, but we have to do it right. I'm going to
give them some more rope and I think they'll hang themselves. Here is what I
want you to do..."
Henry listened to my plan and reluctantly agreed. It was all he could do not to
run off and charge in like the cavalry, but I convinced him that Libby was in no
danger.
First I met with Will and outlined the plan. He agreed it should work, and set
about to edit down several days worth of tape. Next, I called Jane.
"Have you got that stuff I told you to look for?"
"I sure did boss. And I found the names of the Board of Directors of the Church
of Atonement/Revelation. See if any of these sound familiar: William St Cyr, Dr
Gunter Klow, Jack Warren, A. de Granamour..."
"Wait a minute--what do you mean 'A'...what's his name?" I asked.
"That's all it says here, just 'A'."
That's odd, I thought. "Ok, go on."
"Uh, let's see...Kenneth Harding, Dr. Gerda Mundinger, Will Henry. That's it."
The names didn't mean anything to me, but I was sure they'd be useful. "How
about Corpun?"
"They've registered with the SEC, you were right. They're going public and the
Church is a big underwriter."
"Can you fax me everything you've got on their board and the IPO? I especially
need pictures. Home addresses, too."
"Will do, boss. Uh, when are you coming back?"
"Soon, I hope. A few more days."
"'Cause, uh, I'm a little behind on that filing and..."
"Well, it better be done when I get back, or you and I will be having a little
talk," I said sternly.
"Uh, yeah, ok boss. I'll get right on it." She sounded excited about it. I had
to give the poor girl something to look forward to.
The faxes arrived a few minutes later. I scanned the documents, looking at the
photos. There it was. Paydirt.
"Hello, Confessor Stephen," I said to myself, looking at one Oliver Brussard, VP
Engineering of Corpun. And I'd have bet the ranch that the guy in the brief
video shot with Libby, Noah Chrossman, and Anna Klochek was the president of the
company, Al Laroche. Wearing a green robe as I recall.
The SEC documents were also illuminating. They said Corpun held key patents in
new "correctional devices" that would revolutionize corrections for juvenile and
non-violent offenders. Translation--they planned to sell Henry's spanking
machines to every county, city, village and township in America. As a major
equity holder the Church would get rich, and it would use the special modified
version to "train" new Handmaidens. Sweet.
I made one last call and it was to Allison down in Charlottesville. I was sure
she wanted to know that her sorority sisters were ok. She wasn't in, but I left
the message that she could reach me at the Mayflower.
******************************************************************
The house in Great Falls was like a mini estate, set back on a long driveway,
surrounded by forest. For a man of the cloth, the home of the right Rev Noah
Chrossman amounted to pretty fancy digs. It had been relatively easy to
establish that the Great Falls house belonged to Chrossman. Now all we had to do
was wait. I felt sure that Corpun would make it's move soon. That being done, I
checked into The Mayflower and collapsed.
When I awoke my message light was blinking. Were things happening already? I
went the voice mail delivery system. A woman had left a message.
"Mr Hand, this is Madeline Smythe, I'm Allison Carter's faculty advisor. I'd
like to meet with you if I could. I'm in DC today with a conference. If you can,
please meet me downstairs in the lobby at 11:30. I'll be wearing a beige suit.
Thank you." That was it. Sort of an English accent, hard to tell how old she
was. Very matter-of-fact.
Christ! There really was a Madeline Smythe. And she wanted to see me. Had
Allison told her what had happened? That I had bared her behind and given her an
over-the-knee spanking like she was twelve? This was not good. She could be mid
30-ish, maybe 40--probably a battle ax spinster ready to go on a tear about my
brutalizing sweet little Allison. I decided I'd better meet her in the lobby.
Get this over with.
When I got off the elevator, the only person I saw standing around looking for
someone was a very attractive brunette in a smartly tailored business suit that
came up several inches above her knees. The tight skirt was showing off her
shapely ass and gorgeous legs in killer high heels. She was carrying a briefcase
and a long tube like the kind that hold engineering blueprints. She looked at me
quizzically.
"Mr Hand?" she asked. I nodded. "I'm Madeline Smythe." There was that faint
English accent. She was young for a college professor. She couldn't have been
much older than 28--30 max. And she was beautiful.
"I'm Rollin Hand," I said flashing my most charming--I hoped--smile. "How do you
do?"
"Fine," she said, smiling back. "Allison told me a lot about you."
Uh-oh, I thought. She's going to be loaded for bear.
"All no good, I'm sure," I said, attempting a nonchalant chuckle. "So how can I
help you Ms Smythe?"
"Well," she began, "I'm here today for a conference--lectures on medieval
history at the Smithsonian and I thought we could have a little chat about
Allison."
Here it comes. "Sure, how can I help?" We took two chairs and a table next to a
window.
"For awhile this semester Allison's grades were dropping quite steadily. I
noticed a distinct drop in the quality of her work. It was sloppy, poorly
thought out, late--when she handed things in at all. Then last week she had a
paper due. When she handed it in I read it as one of the first I wanted to
review. I was astonished. It was absolutely brilliant. First rate. It didn't
seem like the work of the same girl. So I asked her about it and she said she'd
been to see her friend's uncle. She told me that this 'Uncle Rollin' had sort of
straightened her out and put her back on the right path." Madeline Smythe leaned
forward and lowered her voice, looking me straight in the eye. "She told me what
you did. So I thought I had to meet this 'Uncle Rollin' and find out
more...about your, uh, methods. She did also say you were firm but very
understanding and gracious." Yeah, but that wasn't the half of it. I hoped
Allison had left a few things out.
Hmmm...she was now blushing as she said this. But she was also smiling and
seemed sincere. I was charmed. Was she flirting? So as we sat in the lobby, I
told her about Allison's visit. Her eyes grew wider and wider as I described our
"meeting".
"I must say, Mr Hand, you certainly made an impression on her," she said. I
noticed a shiver.
Then I asked her about the note.
"Yes, I did write such a note," she admitted. "I thought she needed a stern
talking to from her parents or guardian. A jolly good lecture," she added for
emphasis.
"Well, she got more than that," I said dryly. Madeline Smythe nodded with a
rueful grin.
"I guess she did at that. I almost didn't believe it when she told me. A
spanking--for a girl her age." Then she gathered herself. "Certainly such
treatment was not uncommon in ages past. My own doctoral dissertation is in fact
on the use of corporal punishment in the late middle ages and its acceptance in
society both in the home and as an instrument of justice."
Now it was my turn to be surprised. "What a topic. You are not a full
professor?"
"No," she said, "I have my masters but I'm in this country on an exchange. I'm
from England. At the university I'm a grad student advisor and a teaching
assistant. My dissertation will be due this Spring. This is part of what I
wanted to talk to you about." She paused, then, "Allison told me about St
John's."
That was interesting, but where was this going? "Ah, yes--a very traumatic
experience."
"Yes, and I understand that another girl was birched by the authorities." All
very true, I said. I gave her my account, and added the part about the quaint
custom we had witnessed--the condemned being made to cut her own birch switches
the night before. She gulped.
"Do you mind, Mr Hand, if we continue this discussion in a more private place?"
I told her we could go to my room if that was all right. She said that was fine
and we got up and headed for the elevator. I was really puzzled now, but Ms
Smythe seemed to have made up her mind about something. When we got to the room
she placed her things on the table and turned to me.
"Mr Hand," she began. She was tense, formal now.
"Please, it's Rollin. My father was Mr Hand." I smiled. She relaxed a bit.
Brushed her hand through her long hair moving it to the side.
"Ok, Rollin. As I said, my dissertation is on corporal punishment in the middle
ages, all the way to the 17th century actually, and my research is not complete.
I'm trying to convey what it must have been like for women in those times to be
punished in ways that may seem to us as shameful as well as very painful. My
research has revealed that villages and towns commonly prescribed the birch for
young women for a variety of offenses, and that the punishment was administered
to their, er, naked posteriors. It was called the 'lower discipline. 'Men got
the so-called 'upper discipline', a flogging across the back. Most villages had
a town square and a birching block. The miscreant would have to kneel over the
block, have her drawers lowered or her skirts removed, and she would be given
the prescribed number of strokes by some village official or constable, usually
two or three dozen. Then she would be released."
"I see. That's all very interesting but what does it have to do with me?"
"As I said, I've researched this quite a bit, but I need to be able to write
with authenticity. To tell the story of these women. You see, the UK is not like
America. Your states have reinstituted corporal punishment for many offenses. We
have not, but Parliament is considering it. My dissertation will bring home the
shame and the pain, the terror these poor women felt when it was their turn over
the block. To be led out in a thin muslin top and drawers to the jeers of the
crowd, to be manhandled and tied face down, to have your drawers removed so that
all could watch your bare bottom dance while it is whipped without mercy by a
town constable..."
She was really getting worked up here. It was like she had the floor in the
House of Commons.
"...so you see I want to describe this with accuracy. But, I feel that in order
to properly describe what these women felt, I, well...I need to feel what it was
like myself." There was an awkward silence. She smoothed her hands against her
skirt waiting for my reaction.
"You mean," I said incredulously, "you want..."
"Allison said you could be trusted--that you were firm and kind and completely
understanding about these things. There was no one I knew, no boyfriend. And
even if I had one he might think me daft. Here," she said opening the tube,
"this is a real birch. I made it myself." She drew out a sheaf of thin switches,
about a dozen or so, tied with a ribbon. The switches were peeled of all leaves
and buds and the whole rod was about two feet long. I gripped it by the handle.
It was light and flexible. The tips of the switches fanned out at the end to a
width of about 4".
"Madeline, do you know what you are asking? A whipping with a birch rod like
this would sting like blazes. It might leave weals and stripes. You won't sit
comfortably for a week."
Madeline attempted a nervous laugh. "That's what my father used to say before a
good smackbottom." She rubbed her buns in mock distress for effect. A good
smackbottom, huh? The thought of Madeline across a masculine knee enduring a
good smackbottom was a juicy thought.
"If you are sure..." I was hesitant, but this bizarre request was throwing my
arousal state into high gear.
"I am," she said, resolve in her voice.
"I'm floored. I don't know what to say. But I tell you what. I'll do it. You say
this is an essential part of your research. I believe you...and because of
Allison you trusted me. So, how shall we begin?"
"I-I wish to change first. May I use the loo?"
"Be my guest." She went into the bathroom. Good God, the lady wants a birching.
I couldn't believe it. Was there something in the water in Charlottesville? I
decided to get comfortable so I took off my shirt, leaving me barechested in
dark woolen slacks. I didn't look like a middle-ages town beadle, but hopefully
the effect was close enough.
Madeline emerged in a cotton top-- a vest or camisole I think they call it, and
long white cotton drawers like pantalettes. "I wanted to look the part. What do
you think?"
"You look beautiful," I said. And she did. Her breasts strained the thin top.
Her nipples were hard. The drawers were snug and her luscious derriere was
plainly visible through the thin cotton.
"I'm supposed to be a petty criminal, Rollin, so you must now take charge." She
stood, hands at her side, awaiting my command.
I pulled the pillows off the bed and stacked two of them at the foot.
I held the rod across my body in both hands. Had to get into my role here.
"Madeline Smythe, you have been convicted of petty theft and for this you will
receive one doz--"
Madeline quietly interrupted. "Two Dozen"
"Two dozen strokes of the rod. To be delivered as lower discipline across your
bared, er, bottom. Assume the position across the pillows."
Madeline laid face down over the pillows causing her lovely nates to jut up
nicely. She turned her head to the side and gripped the bedspread with her
hands. Her toes dug into the carpet. Her ass, round and vulnerable was presented
for punishment. One more thing. I laid the rod down and slid my fingers into the
waistband of the drawers. She lifted a little and I eased the flimsy garment
down baring her lovely moons. The pale globes were beautifully framed by the
lowered pantalettes. I took a stance to her left and tapped her bottom with the
switches. "This will hurt. Are you ready?"
"Yes. I am. Go ahead, birch me like I was a village slut," she growled huskily.
I swooshed the rod down and it whined through the air, striking with a dry
hwickkk! sound. Her bottom globes flattened then sprang back with a wobble. She
hissed, a sharp intake of breath through her teeth. Swissshhh...hwick! Her
bottom danced again, another brief wobble. This time she emitted a little grunt
like "hunnhh." Faint red lines appeared.
Swish...thwick! "Oooohhh!"
Swish...hwick! "Nhhh...ahhh!"
I developed a cadence, the strokes coming about ten seconds apart. She mewled in
pain. She bucked. She scissored her legs. More thin red lines appeared across
her fanny. All the while I whipped the wobbling rounded globes with firm
deliberate strokes.
Swish...thwick! "Ow---hoooo."
Swick! "Ow! Nunnnhhh." Right across the crowns of her lush sit spot.
The birch whined again...and struck. "Oh! God that hurts. Whew!"
She tensed and pressed her body into the pillows as each lash fell. I finished
one dozen. Hwisshh...thwick! Number thirteen.
"Owww! Ooh, ooh." She writhed, humping her hips up and down as if that could
relieve her agony. It just made her buttocks jiggle lasciviously. More vocal
now. Good thing I had the TV on. She was writhing now. I guess she did look like
a 16th century peasant girl, bent over the block, buttocks bare and writhing
from the judicious application of the birch on the lovely cheeks. The red lines
had now diffused, making her ass a hot pink color. It would get hotter.
I wondered if she could stay down and take it. I wanted to go easy on her, but
I knew she did not want that. She wanted a real birching, so I laid the strokes
on with deliberate firmness. The dry thwick! sound of the switches impacting
jiggling female fanny was not especially loud, but it was sharp and distinct.
By nineteen her behind was flaming red and she was gasping and clenching the
bedclothes tight with every lick. It must be taking all her willpower, I
thought, to keep from bolting upright and massaging her tortured bottom. I gave
her the last five quickly, increasing the force of my stroke with each one. She
practically came up off the bed.
Thwick! Huick! Swish...whick! Whuck! Swick!
"Oh...ow!...ah!...yeowwww!...yowwwww!" She screeched, lifting her upper body on
her hands, throwing her head back, and pressing her pelvis down into the
pillows..
"It's over. That's twenty-four, Madeline."
"Oh, thank God," she moaned. She lay still for a moment then pushed herself up.
She stood, eyes closed, gritting her teeth and rubbing her tender buttocks.
"My God, that really stung! Oh!"
"Do you have any cold cream? Perhaps that would help," I said anxiously. I
detected some tears.
"In my handbag," she said with a sniffle.
I grabbed the jar in her bag and sat on the bed. "Here, lie over my knee."
She nodded and prostrated herself over my left knee, her upper body on the bed.
Her buttocks were hot to the touch and striated with thin lines, weals left by
the switches. I put a generous dollop of cold cream on each cheek and gently
rubbed it in.
"Oh, oh, yes, that's better," she breathed.
As I continued she relaxed and it began to look as though the pain were
subsiding.
"You know, that showed a great deal of fortitude to take that."
"Thank you," she said, "and thank you for not backing off. I needed to really
know, you know? Even though it hurt like Hades."
"Whippings hurt," I said, the voice of experience. I continued to rub the cream
in, kneading her buttocks in slow lazy circles. She made little noises, almost
like purring. It wasn't deliberate but as my fingers spread the cream into the
delicate fold between buttock and thigh, I felt something wet and slippery. Her
sex wet and glistening with fluid. She gently humped her mound against my thigh
as I rubbed. Then she parted her legs slightly. I let my fingers fall on the
lips of her slick pussy. "Yes, please," she said in a small voice. I needed no
further invitation. I slid my index finger into her hot canal and began to frig
her gently.
"Oh...oh...oh, yes," she panted as I touched the bud of her clitoris and gently
massaged it. I kept this up, fingering her slit and rubbing her clitoris until
her up and down motion signaled that she was approaching climax. She sensed it
too and abruptly raised herself off my lap and slid to her knees in front of me.
She quickly unzipped my fly and reached in, feeling for my cock. She deftly
pulled it out and slid her lips around the head. She was an accomplished
fellatrix. She sucked slurped and swirled her tongue around the glans causing
jolts of pleasure to shoot up my spine. I allowed her to do this for a few
minutes then pulled her head back. I lifted her to her feet and pulled off my
trousers completely. When I sat back down on the bed I pulled her to me. She
opened her legs and straddled me, my hard penis sliding into her hot sheath like
a greased pole. When she had settled her weight into my lap we began to move
together, rocking gently at first, then faster. In a short time we were bucking
furiously. I held onto her hips she hugged me, mashing her breasts into my chest
until after a few minutes we came in a blinding mutual orgasm that left us both
limp and breathless.
Afterward she said, "You must think me awful, but after that whipping I-I
just..."
I held up my hand. "No need to explain. It's a normal reaction. I don't know if
you should include that in your dissertation, though."
She smiled and nodded. Then she looked at the clock. "Oh my God, the lecture!
Rollin, I have to go."
I said it was ok, I'd see her later, that is, if she wanted to...
She said yes, she'd like that very much, but that she had to go or she'd never
get a seat. I advised her that she'd probably want to stand in the back anyway.

Atonement Ch 13
The next day, I got a call from Will. Our patience had paid off. They had taken
the bait. Time to roll. I met Will at the park in Great Falls. He handed me a
video tape.
"You sure you want to do this?"
I took the tape. "Just make sure you and Henry are at the front door when I give
the signal. And make sure Jim has something like a mirror to flash when I wave
my hand."
"He'll be ready. He says that there has been a lot of coming and going
recently," said Will opening up a laptop. He pulled up several image files. "We
took these this morning."
The pictures were of people exiting cars. Brussard and Laroche were in one car.
In another picture Anna Klochek and Libby Mason got out of a car together. A
second picture showed them walking. Anna had her arm around Libby's waist
possessively and Libby's head leaned against the taller woman's shoulder. I
looked at Will.
"There's a complication I didn't anticipate, but it perhaps explains her
motive." I had guessed that Libby had sold out her dad. Ever since I had seen
the video capture of Libby at the commune, I had known Libby had not been
kidnapped or mistreated because in that shot she had been wearing the psuedo
military uniform of a Lictor.
We came up on the back of the property through the dense forest that made the
mini mansion so isolated and private. At the edge of a broad lawn I waited. With
binoculars I could see the back of the house clearly. There was a patio
surrounding a pool with outdoor chairs and a circular table with a big umbrella.
The scene and furnishings were fairly typical of a wealthy man's country
retreat--except for the whipping frame set up on the patio.
Several people exited some French doors. There was Chrossman in a purple robe
with red chevrons on it, the most ornate I had seen. There was Laroche and
Brussard in green and a younger man in gray. Each man was accompanied by a
pretty girl in Handmaiden garb, the brief Greek tunic made of some thin white
diaphonous material. The scene reminded me of "Fire Maidens from Outer Space"
and dozens of bad biblical epics.
Then came Anna and Libby in their Lictor garb--tight stretch pants, black boots,
a white blouse. Libby had a young woman by the arm and Anna led a young man
along. Both were stark naked and their hands were bound behind them, wrist to
elbow. Two male lictors followed carrying what looked like switches. The robed
"brethren" seated themselves in deck chairs. Obviously, they were going to
watch. Anna spoke to Libby and she seated herself on a sturdy wooden bench while
Anna waited, holding each naked supplicant by the arm. Chrossman spoke to the
two and they shook their heads, nodding reluctantly in assent.
The woman was first. She was a petite blonde with a voluptuous figure. Libby
tipped her over her lap until her fanny was poised right over Libby's left knee
and her face was inches from the patio. Anna handed Libby what looked like a
small oval paddle. She pressed it against the jutting globes of the young
woman's seat for a moment, then she began to spank the woman. The spanks were
sharp smacks delivered to alternate cheeks of the woman's behind in a steady
tattoo. While she spanked, Libby held the woman's hands bound by a thong in the
small of her back. After several minutes the penitent started to kick and squirm
in obvious reaction to the heat being generated by the little paddle. Anna said
something to Libby who nodded and concluded the chastisement with ten final
smacks, delivered more forcefully and slowly. Each one elicited a shrill yelp
from the woman. When it was over they lifted her up and led her off to the side.
Then Anna led the young man to Libby's left side. The result of his having
watched his partner's spanking was obvious. His hard cock was practically in
Libby's face.
Libby spoke to him, sharply it looked like, and took his hard member in her
hand. His knees buckled slightly and he nodded sheepishly and answered her. It
looked like he was trying to explain or make excuses. She shook her head and,
pulling on his stiff member, hauled him face down across her knees. She gripped
his hands where they were tied and proceeded to deliver a stinging spanking with
the oval paddle. It went on for several minutes and she spanked his bottom
rapidly and hard. He jerked and squirmed across her lap as she tanned his fanny
quite thoroughly. The cracking sounds drifted across the lawn and we could hear
his sputtered yelps of distress toward the end.
She let him up. His cock was still hard. The two guards took the woman and
untied her then led her over to the frame. It was a leaning frame with rails
like an easel that met at an apex. There was a padded horizontal bar at pelvic
height that made the woman's buttocks jut back lewdly when they fastened her
ankles to the rails and her wrists to the apex. At Anna's direction a male
Lictor handed Libby a switch. She swooshed it through the air then took a
position behind the fettered blonde. Libby gave the blonde a wristy rapid-fire
switching across her writhing buttocks that lasted for several minutes. We could
hear the blonde squeal. Then Anna gave a command and she stopped.
While the blonde writhed around on the frame, They took the man and secured him
to the frame right behind the woman. He was pressed up against her backside, her
buttocks mashed against his groin. In amazement we watched as Libby reached
between his legs and guided his stiff penis into the woman's vagina. She arched
her buttocks a little to make the angle right for insertion. He then
straightened and drove himself up to the hilt as the blonde shuddered with
apparent pleasure.
At a command from Libby the couple began to fuck. The man drove his shaft into
the woman in long slow strokes. She humped, pushing her buttocks back against
him in response. Libby walked behind him with a switch in hand. If he sped up,
she whipped him with the switch, one, two, three strokes. Then he'd slow down
again. The torture was exquisite. If he got close to climax, he got his butt
switched, but the long slow screw poised on the edge of climax was driving the
couple out of their minds. When the blonde picked up the tempo of their humping,
the man was powerless to stop her. He'd speed up and take a dozen licks right
across the ass before he could slow down. All the time Anna was giving Libby
direction.
I now understood what was going on. It was a training session for Libby. They
were going to make her a Lictor in the Church. Well, I thought, time to go. The
writhing couple had finally been allowed to finish and their humping was
building to a furious climax as I emerged from the forest.
The man and woman both stiffened as they came together, bodies banging, sweating
and moaning in the throes of orgasm. I clapped as I strode across the lawn.
"Bravo! Bravo! Absolutely terrific!" I exhorted as I approached the seated
spectators and participants.
Brussard and Laroche looked at me, startled. Chrossman just looked like he'd
eaten something disagreeable. "Who in the hell are you?" shouted an angry
Chrossman. "This is private property and you're guilty of criminal trespass!"
"I know who he is," fumed Anna. "He's a shyster lawyer who keeps sticking his
nose into our business."
"Nice to see you too again, Ms Klochek," I said with a smile, striding up onto
the patio. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Rollin Hand. I'm an attorney. I
represent Henry Mason." I turned to Libby. "Your dad's been awfully worried
about you, Libby. It's good to see that you've just been out having fun." Libby
gasped.
"I don't care who you think you are," thundered Chrossman, "I'm going to have my
security staff throw you out."
Anna Klochek chimed in, "Please, Reverend Noah, let me interrogate him first.
We're old friends." To me she said, "Didn't our previous talk make any
impression Mister Hand? We must have another chat, it seems." Then she motioned
to Frick and Frack, the beefy male Lictors.
Laroche started to say something to Chrossman. He looked worried. I held up my
hand as the two male Lictors started my way. "We're being watched, gentlemen. So
let's all be polite." A light flashed from the trees as I waved. They stopped,
unsure. Chrossman motioned for them to back off. "Now, I suggest we move inside.
I know you have something that belongs to my client. I want to see it."
"Why should we show you anything?" demanded Laroche.
"Because," I said, holding up a video tape, "a lot of people would find the
activities at the Church's Goshen commune very interesting."
The three seated men conferred in low whispers. Laroche spoke up. "This is a
civil matter, Mr Hand, involving Henry Mason's invention. We will see you in
court."
"Well, Mr Laroche, burglary is a criminal matter last time I looked. So is
prostitution. It's punishable by flogging in Pendleton County. Did you know
that? But of course you do--" I hit my head with the heel of my hand a la Steve
Martin. "The jail there is a Corpun facility. Then there's ah," I said, ticking
things off on my fingers, "fraud, kidnapping,...." I started towards the door.
Chrossman rose to stop me. "You can't go in there."
I pushed past him through the double French doors into a large bare room, almost
like a ballroom. In the middle of the floor was the machine that I had seen at
Henry's. Next to it was the one I had seen at the compound at Goshen. A young
man of about 21 was at the console of the copy. Wires snaked from Henry's
machine to the copy and code flashed on both monitors in a rapid sequence. A
download was in progress. Chrossman folded his arms and glared at me. "Trey
Brussard, I presume?" The kid looked up with a shocked expression on his face. I
jerked the connecting cable out of its socket. The monitor went black.
"Your dad is the mechanical engineer but you're the software guy, right? And you
needed the code to make the copy run right." His expression betrayed him. I was
right on the money. Trey looked at his dad for help. He held his palm up and
shook his head.
Laroche addressed me. "This is perfectly legal, Mr Hand. We were given
permission to remove that machine by Mr Mason's daughter."
"Really. That's convenient." I put my hand in my pocket and pressed the button
on a tiny transmitter. "I wonder if Mr Mason would agree with you. By the way,
you look ridiculous in that getup."
Chrossman spoke up. "We had every reason to believe that Libby Mason was acting
on her father's behalf," he huffed.
I regarded Chrossman with a fixed stare. "Was that before or after Ms Klochek
here seduced her?" I said jerking my head towards a fuming Anna Klochek. Libby
just gaped at me. "What did they promise you, that you could be Anna's special
assistant? Was today a little training session? And all you did was let them
into the house to, ah, borrow the machine while stepmom and dad were being led
on some wild goose chase looking for you."
"I can assure you Ms Mason has chosen to join this Church and is a full
member...," Chrossman started but I cut him off.
"But Rev, she missed all the fun stuff, you know, spankings from the housemother
with the rest of the novices, a session or two in the Punishment Hut, a couple
of Handmaiden gigs with CEO's of big contributors--oh--and let's not forget The
Big Initiation. Did she do all that? She was promoted to Lictor awful quickly."
Chrossman appeared flustered--how could I know all that? From inside the house a
doorbell rang. "Better answer it," I said. But someone must have opened it. The
next thing I heard was Henry's booming voice as he and Jim and Will burst
through the door. As he made his way into the room, cane thumping on the floor
his eyes fell simultaneously on the machines and on Libby.
"Libby! Thank God you're all right!"
"I'm ok dad," she said sheepishly.
"But we were worried sick. We thought you'd been kidnapped."
"I'm really ok, dad, and I wasn't kidnapped. I thought it would be OK," she said
anxiously, "Father Noah said your machine should be dedicated to the good of
mankind, that it was immoral for you to keep it hidden and I..."
"Then what...so who?" Henry started, confused. I stopped him. I explained the
whole thing. How Libby had been seduced, first by the church, then by Anna
Klochek. I could see Henry getting madder and madder, glaring at Anna Klochek,
Laroche and Chrossman. I could also see that he was angry at Libby.
"I know you're angry, Henry, but they did set out to seduce Libby, and after
all, she's only a kid." That seemed to mollify Henry somewhat.
"Let's go, Libby," he growled, taking his daughter's arm. "And you," he said to
Laroche, "I'll see you in court."
As Henry stormed out, I turned to Laroche and company. "Well, guys, let's pack
this stuff up. We rented the truck by the hour. Oh, and you'd better let those
two down out there." Everyone had forgotten about the couple at the whipping
frame. Left alone, they were starting to go at it again. Must have been all the
excitement.
****************************************
Henry told me to come out later that evening. We had to map out our demands. And
he alluded to another matter that required my attendance. I already had made an
appointment for the next day to see Martin Creel, Corpun's lawyer. When I
arrived, the crew hired by Will was unloading Henry's machine. Henry stood in
the hallway, leaning on his cane. He looked tired.
"It will be awhile before I get it put back together," he said, carefully
watching the crew. "No telling how much they have screwed up the programming."
He motioned to me. "We have several things to discuss. In my office." I followed
Henry into a spacious study. Inside was a desk piled high with books, drawings
and diagrams. He sat behind the desk, motioning for me to sit.
"What do think our negotiating posture should be when we meet with Corpun
tomorrow?"
"That's easy. Their total capitulation on any rights to the invention, damages
for various torts--I'd say about 5 million dollars. If you want to grant them a
license it's up to you, but I'd go with an exclusive to Nike. We'll agree to no
publicity. That's about it."
"You think they'll pay that?"
"Yes, I do. And by now they will have watched the tape I left on the coffee
table. They'll pay."
"Well, Rollin, let's hope you are correct. I must say, your efforts in my behalf
have gone beyond the call of duty. You found my daughter and got my machine
back. And you have exposed that nest of snakes called the Church of Atonement
for what they really are. Do you think they'll insist on no publicity---why I'd
like to expose those sons of..."
"Henry, it's going to be one of those compromises none of us like, but if you
want a settlement of this magnitude..." I left it hanging. I didn't like it
either, but it was that or an ugly court fight with Henry's daughter dragged
into it.
"I'll do it. The last thing I want is Libby paraded around in court like
some...some..."
"I know, Henry. You have fought hard to protect her."
"I did, but she's not going to get off scot free. We have a little appointment
in the parlor. I want you to be there. You're entitled. You suffered because of
her foolishness. Come with me."
I followed Henry into the library. Jessica was there, seated in an armchair,
waiting. Celeste and Mary Beth were there also. There was an armless chair in
the middle of the room with a paddle lying on the seat. In a corner of the room
there was a young woman standing with her back to us. It was Libby. She was
wearing a dress, the kind a girl might wear to Sunday school, a sort of little
girl's frock. Henry took a seat at his desk. He ignored Libby who had begun to
fidgit when we came in.
Libby, hearing us enter, whined from the corner, "Can I say something, daddy? It
is ridiculous to make me stand here wearing this little girl dress--this is
embarrassing. I'm not some little kid and--"
"Silence!" Thundered Henry. "We will get to you in due course. For now you just
stand there and think about all the trouble and grief you have caused everyone."
Libby stamped her foot, but closed her mouth.
"As I said, I will do this legal settlement so that Libby will not be made into
some public spectacle." I nodded. Henry continued. "But that does not finish the
matter. Celeste and Mary Beth, I know you were subjected to some very rough
treatment personally and it pains me to know that Libby was the cause. So Libby
is going to be punished. Here. Now."
"Daddy!" wailed Libby, turning around. "Please, not in front of all these
people!"
"Why not Libby? Mary Beth and Celeste were whipped--whipped with a vicious
martinet--all because of you. And what about Mr Hand? He found you and made it
possible for me to extract you from a very dangerous situation." Then Henry
addressed me. "Rollin, Mary Beth and Celeste, I need your assistance and
frankly, justice demands it. I would like for the three of you to do something
for me since I fear I'm unable to do it properly myself."
We waited for him to finish.
"I want you to give Libby a sound spanking. I mean a good one. With that
paddle." Henry gestured toward the paddle lying across the seat of the chair. It
was a rectangular paddle with a business end about 3"x 10" and made of some
synthetic material.
Libby really wailed. "Daddeeee! No!!"
"Libby my child, you have this coming. These people suffered because of you, and
it is they who should dole out your punishment." To Celeste and Mary Beth he
said, "You two were whipped--how many lashes was it?"
"Thirty," said Mary Beth through gritted teeth. Her arms were folded and her
expression was serious. "And it hurt like bloody hell," added Celeste, glaring
at Libby. Both girls were justifiably very angry at their sorority sister.
"So now it is time to pay the piper for your reckless and foolish behavior,
Libby. It was actually your sorority sisters here who suggested this. Apparently
the sorority paddle is still in use in your organization, am I right?"
Both girls nodded. "Pledges get paddled and members can too, upon a vote of the
sisterhood," added Celeste.
Henry continued. "So it is fitting, Libby. You will receive 30 licks from each
of these people given to you however they want to do it. When I turn this over
to them, you will obey their instructions, do you understand?" Libby pleaded,
"Please, no, daddy, no. I'll do anything, just not that---please."
"Libby, you are my darling daughter and I love you, but you must now accept that
you must endure this punishment at the hands of the people you injured. So I
don't want to hear another word until we are done here." Libby didn't say
anything. She just shuffled her feet, looking at the floor. "Mary Beth, if you
will, pick up the paddle--and use it."
Mary Beth did not have to be told twice. She walked over to the chair and hefted
the paddle. She moved it aside and said, "Come on Libby. Let's go. I want you to
bend over right here. Hands on your knees." With a resigned sigh Libby
approached the chair. She was a short girl, with closely cropped brown hair and
a curvy figure. She was maybe a bit bottom heavy, but with her thin waist the
shape was all the more alluring. She stood next to Mary Beth told her to lift
her skirt and bend over. With a stifled groan Libby took the hem of her dress
and lifted it. All Libby had on underneath were bikini panties that didn't cover
much. The bent over posture thrust her bottom cheeks out making an attractive
target for the paddle.
Mary Beth took a stance to the side and measured her distance laying the paddle
flat against Libby's nicely rounded ass. Libby flinched as she felt the cold
blade of the paddle touch her nearly nude seat. Mary Beth drew back to deliver a
full arm swing and brought the paddle down full force. The loud CRACK! flattened
Libby's hind cheeks and she let out a yell. Mary Beth was determined. She placed
crack after stinging crack on Libby's ample buttocks causing Libby to plead and
wail.
"You know, Libby I pleaded with that woman not to whip me so
hard , but she kept on anyway . So now you just grin and bare
it, girl "
"Oww!...oooh!...Mary Beth!....please...I didn't know!...Ow!..."
At the end of the thirty licks, Libby was sobbing. Mary Beth, having finished,
offered the paddle to Celeste who took it in a firm grip. Libby had risen and
was rubbing her butt. "Please, oh, please, Celeste. I've had enough, c'mon..."
But Celeste wasn't having any of it. "Back down Libby and stick it out. You're
getting thirty from me good and hard."
Celeste paddled her with sharp wristy smacks that came closer together. Her
buttocks constantly jiggled under the barrage of smacks and she shuffled her
feet. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" she cried under the stinging paddle swats. Celeste was not
going easy. When she was done with her thirty she offered the paddle to me. I
shook my head. I grabbed the chair that had been moved aside, spun it around and
sat down. Libby was standing there, tears in her eyes rubbing her flaming ass.
"I'm just going to use my hand, Libby, but I want you over my knee. This was a
childish stunt and to me you have acted like a spoiled child. So you are going
to get a good spanking from me." Henry nodded with approval. I glanced at
Jessica and she flashed me a big smile back. "C'mon Libby, over my lap." I
patted my legs.
Libby approached me and lowered herself across my knee, bottoms up. I flipped
back the little skirt and rested my hand on her bottom. It was hot.
"You know, Libby, your friends were whipped nude, but they even let you keep
your panties on. Well, I'm not." And I grabbed her panties and jerked them off
down to her knees. She shrieked in protest. "You can't! No! Not bare, not bare!"
"Yes he can, Libby," bellowed Henry. "Go ahead, Rollin. I want you to tan her
little butt until it glows."
I need no second invitation. The memory of Anna Klochek's whip came back to me
and I proceeded to give Libby a bare butt tanning that I was sure she would
remember for quite awhile. I smacked from one cheek of her curvy fanny to the
other in a solid barrage of smacks that had Libby squealing and kicking her
legs. Her ass was spanked to a flaming red, almost purple by the time I was
through, and she was crying and blubbering and pleading for forgiveness. I
stopped and looked at Henry again. He was smiling in satisfaction. I looked at
Jessica. She was smiling with approval--and something else. It looked like
desire to me.
All Libby could do was sob "Yes, sir" to Henry's post spanking scolding. I took
my leave, but not before Jessica had pulled me aside. "She needed that. She is
spoiled and Henry put up with it for far too long." Then she stood back and eyed
me curiously. She said, "My you give thorough spankings. I wouldn't want to be
over your knee when you're angry." But you know, the way she said it, it sounded
more like an invitation to do just that.

Atonement Chapter 14 and Conclusion
The next morning Henry and I met with Martin Creel. Al Laroche was there--and
looking very chagrined. So was a Church attorney. We laid out our demands.
Laroche sputtered and fumed, but he knew the jig was up. Creel insisted on
silence as I knew he would. Laroche begged Henry for a license under the
patents.
"It'll be a cold day in hell, Laroche," was all he said. When we got to the end,
they agreed to pay. We also negotiated a settlement for Mary Beth and
Celeste--again with no admission of any wrongdoing. Everyone was about to
leave, anxiously, I thought. They wanted to get out before we thought of
something else.
"There's just one more little thing...." I said.
"What?" huffed Creel. Their eyes widened as I explained it to them. But they
talked about it for awhile and realized that it was in everyone's interest.
Nothing personal, it was just good business to avoid some nasty publicity for
the Church.
**********************************************
I hung around Washington for a day or two, recuperating. Two days after our
meeting, I made the trip back to Charlottesville. Jessica received me. She was
wearing a ravishing purple dress that clung to every abundant curve. We made
small talk while we waited for high noon. Between her lush figure, vibrant red
hair and her deep green eyes, I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. When the
doorbell rang again, I answered it. An ashen-faced Anna Klochek stood in the
doorway flanked by a pair of beefy men whom I guessed were Church security, if
not Lictors.
"Miss Klochek, welcome," I said smiling. "Come on in."
She scowled but allowed herself to be led in by her escorts, each of whom
gripped one arm. Apparently the Church was more interested in the settlement
than it was in the discomfort to its head Lictor's fanny and had sent these boys
along to insure her cooperation.
"Ok, boys, Henry is waiting for us in his workshop downstairs. I know Anna here
knows where it is, but if you'll just follow me..."
I led them down to Henry's workshop. Henry had his large prototype machine
reconstructed. He was fiddling with some adjustments on a new structure that had
been added. On either side was a short post with a rotary head on top that was
mounted on a sliding track to the rear of the bench. Each rotary head had a
flexible rod stuck into a hole on the head. Each rod was about a foot long and
at the end there was a 2 foot long single thong lash mounted to it. The lash was
made of some kind of resilient rubbery material. It looked like a rat tail.
"Ah, Miss Klocheck," said Henry, looking up as we entered. "We are pleased to
have you here to help us test our newest feature." He pulled himself to his
feet.
"You know, I originally designed these machines for the juvenile market, but I
had no idea that there would be an explosion in state laws mandating corporal
punishment for everything from drunk driving to writing bad checks--for adults.
And so I thought," Henry stuck a finger into the air for effect, "for this
market a mere spanking machine is simply not sufficient. Adults should be
whipped, not spanked like children, don't you agree? Adults need something that
really drives the point home. So," he gestured to the twin rotary hubs with
their ominous looking rod and whip attachments, "I developed this. As you can
see these twin hubs rotate, pulling these flexible rods with lashes attached
around in a circle at tremendous speed. The tip of each lash travels in an arc
of 320 degrees before striking the target. There are right and left whips and
they are timed to deliver a lash to the target area in alternate sequence. The
heads move slightly in the vertical direction after each stroke so that the
target area for the tip of the lash varies. The timing can be chosen so that
strokes are delivered at variable intervals. My research has shown that a period
of about 3-5 seconds between strokes is optimum. The prisoner has time to feel
the full effect of a stroke before the next is given. So what do you think? I
mean, you're the expert. This will really make a drunk driver think before
getting behind the wheel of a car, right?"
Anna's mouth was open and she figited nervously, looking from side to side--for
a way out, no doubt.
"In this version the impact area is the buttocks and the back of the thighs--the
spot nature intended is still the best, eh?"
Not hearing any comment, Henry went on, "the laser rangefinder is calibrated
with the rotary heads which move on these tracks so that the ends of the whips
land square across the buttocks of the miscreant. No wrapping around or anything
like that--and by having two heads, full coverage of the target area is assured.
Well, what do you think Miss Klochek," said Henry, positively beaming, "ready to
take her for a spin?"
She must have known that pleading was no use, but it didn't stop her. Her eyes
held a genuine look of fear as she regarded the grim apparatus. "Look,
this...this is unnecessary. You got what you wanted."
"Ah, yes, Miss Klochek, but some things cannot be undone, can they? Just ask Mr
Hand here." She looked my way, crestfallen. I smiled and shrugged.
She kept trying. "I'm sorry. Really. They gave me a job to do."
I turned to Henry. "I think that was Goering's defense at Nuremberg." Then back
to Anna. "Anna, we go a long way back. I owe you for more than our little
session in the woods." Anna started to protest again but Henry cut her off.
"Well, we're wasting time," said Henry looking at his watch. "So if you will be
so kind as to remove your pants..."
"What?" said Anna. "Bare? You want me bare? No-- No. I won't do it." She
struggled, realizing that in just a minute or two she would be strapped down and
whipped by the machine.
Henry gestured to the Church's security men who grabbed a sputtering Anna by her
arms and marched her over to the padded support at the center of the machine.
Ignoring her frantic protests they secured her face down and fastened buckling
straps around her upper back and at the hollows of the knees. Since the padded
top sloped slightly downward, the bend of her body forced her buttocks to arch
up prominently. She was wearing tight tan pants that revealed the rounded shape
of the globes of her bottom to perfection. She was tall and lithe but had a full
and very feminine oval-shaped derriere.
"Jessica, if you please, dear, pull the lady's pants down."
"With pleasure, darling," said Jessica, smiling broadly as she rose and
approached the frantic, struggling Anna.
Anna protested loudly as Jessica reached underneath the firmly secured Miss
Klochek to unfasten her pants. Having done so, she gripped both sides of the
tight slacks and with much tugging and pulling peeled them and some silky white
panties down over the rather attractive fanny that jutted so shamelessly over
the whipping stool. As Anna choked in rage and indignation, Henry pulled up the
program and enabled the range finder. After making a few more settings, he said:
"Well, now is the moment of truth Miss Klochek. You are about to receive a very
adult whipping of your derriere. It will hurt--a lot--but I guess you know all
about that. You will receive 100 lashes, maximum intensity." Henry pushed a
button and the machine began to hum. Henry finally abandonned his mock
jocularity and practically biting his words off said, "And Miss Klochek--never,
never, never come near me or my family again." At that last emphatic statement,
Henry hit a button on the console and stood. The right hub rotated, gaining
momentum. The whip followed the rod which bent under the mass of the whip's
tail. As it came around, the rod straightened and the whip followed it in a flat
arc making a sickening whining sound. The tip struck Anna Klochek's buttocks
square across the crowns of the fatty cheeks with a sharp CRACK!
"Arhhhh....ohhh God...nooo" screamed the struggling woman. She barely had time
to catch her breath before CRACK!--the lash from the left side smacked across
the wriggling fanny and elicited another pitious cry. Then CRACK! the right
whip--whoosh...CRACK! the left.
Every three or four seconds another whip crack decorated the jiggling mounds
with a livid red weal. The speed of the whip was truly frightening. Having seen
a few whippings lately I could tell that this one was special. As the whips
cracked and smacked in their relentless precision, Anna shrieked and screamed in
pain. "Yeoww...ow...ow...I can't stand it! Stop! Stop! PLease!"
But Henry and everyone else just looked on at a wicked woman getting her just
desserts.
The whipping took about 6 minutes. We watched, grimly fascinated as the twin
whips placed crack after stinging crack across the writhing buttocks. It must
have been the longest six minutes of Anna Klochek's life. By the end she was
hysterically pleading and blubbering for it to stop. Her ass was covered with a
mass of lurid red and purple weals. The skin however, had not broken. Henry had
confided to me that he was worried about this, but had chosen his materials
carefully. His object--the infliction of maximum pain with minimal injury. It
looked like the experiment was a success.
With little fanfare Anna's attendants unstrapped her and pulled her to her feet.
She wailed in pain as her pants were drawn up over her welted ass. We signed
documents attesting to the satisfaction of the part of the deal and Ms Klochek
was escorted away on unsteady legs.
"I don't think you'll have to worry about her again," I said to Henry and
Jessica after they had left.
"Thanks to you, Rollin," boomed Henry heartily. "My machine gave her a right
smart ass whuppin', wouldn't you say?"
"It looked like it might have smarted a bit," I said with a chuckle. Serves her
damn right, I thought, recalling the sting in my own tail as a result of Anna
Klochek's tender mercies.
"Well, I've got to go," said Henry abruptly. "I have to make a plane at Dulles.
I'm headed to Portland to meet with Nike--I'll run any proposal by you, right?"
I nodded. This was rather abrupt.
"Good," he said. Then with a smile he added, "Jessica would like you to stay for
lunch, wouldn't you dear?"
"Absolutely," purred Jessica. "I want to thank Rollin personally for his help."
"Good. Well, I'll be off then." And he picked up a bag and was out the door.
*******************************
We ate in the solarium. The house was quiet. Everyone else was gone, it seemed.
We ate in silence for a minute or two. Somewhere I could hear the ticking of a
grandfather clock. Jessica broke the silence.
"Libby told me more about the commune after she was punished, after you all had
left. The poor child--I have been a friend to her you know. But she has been
spoiled. Henry was right to put his foot down with her. God knows he does with
me."
"I imagine you want to avoid his new wrinkle--the whipping attachment, I mean."
"Yes indeed," she said with a rueful smile. "I'll bet your Miss Klochek has
trouble in the sitting department for awhile. From the way she screamed, I'd say
it was pure punishment."
"You mean not like your paddywhackings in the machine?"
"No. Not like mine. Although Henry does not always allow me the use of
the...other controls."
"So it's not always fun."
"No. I can be a hand full, Rollin." Her smile was flirtatious. "I
need--sometimes I need a strong man to keep me in line...tamed. Sometimes what I
need is...pure chastisement." She said it seriously.
"I doubt seriously that you can be tamed, Jessica." She just fluttered her
eyelids.
With a sly smile she slid an envelope from beneath a plate and handed it to me.
"Henry asked me to give this to you after he had left." I took it and opened it.
It read:
" Dear Rollin,
I appreciate your fine work on my behalf and especially your efforts in
locating Libby and bringing this matter to a successful conclusion. Before you
take your leave, however, I wonder if you could perform for me one final task.
Jessica has been extremely petulant of late. She has snapped at the staff, has
drank too much, and was rude to some faculty wives at a recent University
funtion. As is our custom I informed her that she must be dealt with for these
infractions, but then Libby disappeared and this whole mess started. So before
you leave I want you to act as my proxy--sort of in loco parentis--and give
Jessica a good "seeing to". Take her to our "playroom" and use whatever means
you deem appropriate to correct her for her misbehaviour.
Spare the rod and spoil the wife,
Henry "
As I read she tilted her head and regarded me thoughtfully. "That was some
licking you gave Libby. She said you spanked really hard. It stung like the
devil--and you just used your hand on her backside."
"Don't forget her sorority sisters--they used paddles before I stated. I was
just driving home the lesson." I put down the letter. "Do you know what this
says?" I asked.
"No. Henry didn't tell me. He said it would be a surprise."
I flipped it to her. "It is. Go on, you may want to read this."
She picked it up and began to read. Her eyes grew wide as she scanned the page.
"Oh, my. Henry. " she said, shocked. Her jaw dropped.
"You're blushing," I observed.
"I-I don't know what to say. Why, that Henry, he...that scheming bastard...I
thought he'd..." Then she shook her head with a wry smile. Henry's little joke.
A "gotcha". They'd laugh about it later.
"You thought he'd leave you alone to have a little fun."
"I didn't expect this...". She was flustered. It was a delicious game between
them, apparently. I don't think Jessica knew about the letter. They had cooked
up between them the idea that Henry would leave abruptly to clear the way for
Jessica to have an adventurous afternoon romp.
"So, Jessica, what shall we do?" I was enjoying this beautiful woman's
consternation. Then she straightened. She'd made up her mind I guessed.
"Well, it seems I'm in for it. I am a dutiful wife...and I suppose I've been a
bit naughty." The sly smile was back. So, " she said, pushing her chair back and
rising, "follow me to the playroom."
I'd have followed her to Hades and back, I thought, as I walked behind her,
taking in the mesmerizing sway of her jouncy bottom straining against the tight
sheath dress. As she walked she pulled a pin from her hair and shook her head,
causing her long red hair to fall, flowing around her shoulders.
We entered a room off the hall. Jessica flipped on some lights. I whistled.
There was apparatus that at first looked like exercise machines. Closer
inspection revealed a different purpose. These benches and things were designed
to hold someone down. There was a bar suspended from the ceiling--with manacles
on it. Along the wall was a rack of implements of various designs. Jessica
turned to me.
"This room hasn't been used in a while. It was used a lot before Henry's
accident." She twisted her hands together and bit her lower lip. "When we used
to enter this room, I called Henry "Sir". So, ah...how do you want me...Sir?"
"I'm thinking," I said as I took off my jacket and hung it on a hook. She
watched me with growing interest as I took off my tie and rolled up my sleeves.
I sat on a padded bench and crooked my finger. "Come here, Jessica."
She walked to me with mincing steps. "Sir, what are you going to do?" It was a
timid little girl voice.
"I'm going to spank your bottom until it is red and hot and stinging. Drape
yourself across my lap, Jessica. Good girl," I said as she gingerly lowered
herself over my knee, giving me a terrific view of her generous cleavage in the
process. I rested my hand on the gorgeous swell of her seat and rubbed the
mounds through the thin fabric. She moaned softly, a pleasure moan.
"Now let's see, snapping at the staff were you?" I continued the massage of the
deliciously resilient rounds.
"Yes, sir," said the small voice.
"Very thoughtless of you. Lift up."
She obliged, lifting her midsection. I slowly raised the veil of her dress
exposing the lush and beautiful mounds of her exquisite derriere, clad in flimsy
black lace panties and beautifully framed by a black garter belt and sheer black
stockings. Her skin was pale--usually the case with redheads. I rubbed my hand
on each cheek in turn in small circular movements. She shivered as my palm
caressed her.
"This spanking is for rudeness, as you no doubt deserve."
I raised my palm and brought it down flat on the crown of her right bottom
globe. A sharp Smack! echoed off the walls. A split second later I smacked her
left cheek. The splat! smack! whap! my hand rose and fell in a rapid cadence
smacking from one cheek to the next, sometimes across the deep crease partially
hidden by the panties. She wriggled and fluttered her legs in reaction to the
stinging assault. I wasn't really spanking hard, just rapidly, trying to build
up a hot stinging sensation in her backside. It was working.
"Oooh...oh...ah," she squeaked as my hand splatted down. The flesh of her bottom
wobbled at each impact. After about 100 brisk smacks, I put my fingers in the
elastic of the brief panties.
"Time for a sound spanking on your bare fanny, Mrs Mason."
She made a little moan. I think it was pleasure. I slid the panties down baring
the lovely moons of her perfectly formed posterior. Her waist was tiny and her
hips were full making the mounds of her buttocks the most gorgeous of sights.
The cheeks were pink with faint hand prints.
I slowed the pace down but spanked harder now. Each full bodied smack caused her
cheeks to ripple at impact, but when I removed my hand they would spring back
with a wobble, assuming their former deliciously rounded shape. She writhed and
moaned softly as the chastisement continued. I landed spank after spank on her
naughty sit spot. A hot red glow began to appear in her seat. I was determined
to make it glow like a beacon.
After a set of 50 or 60 such slow deliberate smacks, she was panting and
writhing sensuously across my lap. It seemed like she was pushing her bottom up
to meet my descending hand. My cock was getting hard with the friction as well
as the sight of her lovely moons bouncing under the assault of my stinging palm.
I decided to finish with a fast hard flurry. As I spanked wriggling fanny she
uttered sounds of either protest or arousal. It was hard to tell the difference.
"Oh...ah...ow...nhh...umm...yeow..." she mewled at the insistent smack! smack!
smack! of my hand, which by now was stinging as much as her bottom, no doubt. I
finished with ten extra hard ones that made her arch her back and drum the floor
with her toes.
"Can you act more kindly now?" I said resting my hand on a hot bottom cheek.
"Ow...yes, sir...ooh".
"Kneel between my legs."
She knelt, her hands behind her now, rubbing to take the sting out. I grabbed
her and kissed her deeply. Our tongues intertwined. She responded by putting her
arms around my neck and pulling me to her and kissing me back passionately. I
helped her to her feet.
"I think it is time for you to strip, Jessica."
"Yes, sir," she responded, and reached down gathering her hem. She pulled the
dress over her head. Underneath she was wearing a lacy black bra and panties
with the black garter belt and stockings. She stood her hands intertwined as if
awaiting approval. I whistled. She was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever
seen. Not only was her figure ravishing, but the combined effect of her lustrous
red hair and white skin was devastatingly sexy.
As I took in the loveliness of the goddess awaiting my intentions I was almost
speechless, but I managed to croak, "the bra and panties too."
She unclasped the bra, letting it fall. Her breasts were proud and firm, the
nipples small but hard from arousal. She slipped her panties down to reveal a
furry nest of red hair at her pelvic triangle.
"Legs apart," I said, "and put your hands behind your back." I cupped the firm
breasts and let my fingers gently pinch the hard nipples. I reached in between
her legs and guided my hand through the red curls to her slit. It was as I had
suspected, sopping wet and slick with feminine arousal. She moaned and her knees
buckled slightly as I frigged her slowly. She couldn't help but make little
sounds, "nhh...oh...oh...mmm" as I manipulated her slick wetness. I kept it up
for awhile but when I sensed a change in her response, signaling approaching
climax, I stopped.
I stood back. "Now, there is the matter of your drinking, Mrs Mason. What I want
you to do is pick an implement from the wall for me to correct you with." She
licked her lips. Her face was flushed. Her eyes were bright. "Yes sir," she said
quietly and walked over to the wall. The roll of her pink bottom was
intoxicating. She selected a short stiff leather paddle and presented it to me.
I took her by the hand and let her to a padded stool.
"Over the stool and grip the legs," I commanded. She complied. The position
thrust out her seat because her legs bent slightly at the knees. I tapped her
nates a few times with the paddle. "This is for drinking a bit too much,
Jessica. Please restrain yourself in the future." I gave her about twenty
vigorous smacks across jutting fanny and I spread them out. They sounded like
pistol shots in the confines of the hard-walled room. The fig between her legs
glistened with slick dew and her breathing was ragged. Each brisk whap! of the
leather paddle evoked a sharp "Ouch!" She was feeling this one a little more.
Her buttocks approached the hue of a brilliant red sunset and the color of her
spank spot stood out in sharp contrast to the whiteness of her skin.
I put the paddle down and stood behind her. Slipping my fingers into her juicy
slit I rubbed the length of it paying special attention to her hardened little
clit. She gasped and humped her hips in time to the reciprocating motion of my
hand. Again I stopped. "Please, oh please!" she entreated. "Not yet, Mrs Mason.
You must still be corrected for you behavior at the faculty tea."
"Ohhh..." she moaned.
I gripped her arm again and pulled her along toward a lowered bar on an overhead
cable. Fastening her wrists to cuffs on the bar I walked over to a winch on the
wall and raised her arms until her body was upright but not stretched. This time
I selected the fustigatory implement. It was to be a multithonged deerskin
flogger. It had about a dozen soft strands about 18" long on a foot long handle.
I swished it as I approached. Her eyes followed the swishing leather thongs.
I stood in front of her and wrapped my arm around her waist, mashing her body
against mine. Then I gripped the back of her neck and pulling her mouth to mine,
kissed her again--on the mouth, on the neck, all over her face. With my other
hand I squeezed and fondled her hot nether cheeks, cupping and caressing each
sumptuous globe in turn. She ground her pelvis against me trying to stimulate
her sex. I was sure she could feel my hardened cock through my slacks. I broke
our clinch and stepped behind her. She eyed me over her shoulder with
anticipation as I ran the strands of the whip through my fingers.
"One hundred lashes, Jessica. Look straight ahead and thrust your fanny out."
She complied, hollowing the small of her back and making the lush cheeks bulge.
I gave her ten hard lashes, one after another. Each lash bit into the rounded
bottom and made it quiver. I stopped and went around to her side, once again
running my fingers up and down the length of her slit. She bucked against my
hand trying to get herself off. I stopped, resumed my position, and gave her
another hard ten lashes.
I alternated between whipping her magnificent ass and frigging her clit. By the
time 100 lashes had been meted out, she was begging for release. I couldn't hold
out much longer myself. I lowered the bar a bit and replaced the whip.
"Bend way over, Jessica and spread your legs," I said huskily. She knew what was
coming, and bent over, offering herself to me like a mare in heat. She heard the
zip of my fly as I liberated my swollen penis. I let my pants drop and almost
tore off my shirt. She gripped the bar and pushed her buttocks back as I guided
the head of my shaft into her sopping pussy. As I slid in to the hilt she
inhaled sharply. We didn't waste any time. I thrust my hips, slowly at first and
then in a furious jackhammer motion. Both of us were too close to climax to even
think about holding back. I held out as long as I could but when I felt her body
shudder in climax I came in torrents. It seemed to last forever. The glorious
tension we had built up was finally unleashed in a paroxism of intense orgasm.
We finally disengaged. I uncuffed her and kissed her tenderly. She didn't say a
word but took my hand and led me to her bedroom. We renewed our passion several
more times. I even reheated her fanny with a little paddle she kept in a
nightstand. By mid afternoon I was exhausted.
****************************
I barely made my flight. It was late on Friday afternoon, but I decided to go
into the office and read my mail before the weekend.
It would be a laid back weekend, I decided. Maybe I'd take up golf. I was
thinking about ol' Bob and the boys up on the ridge out of Goshen. What did he
see in the game? You walk along and whack something round and white and
defenseless with a stick--well come to think of it, maybe there was something to
it.
My woolgathering was interrupted by the realization that someone was there in my
office. As I opened the door I was greeted by Jane. "Hi Boss," she chirped,
"glad to see you back." Then she bit her lower lip.
"What?" I said.
"Uhh...it's Friday afternoon, boss. Here's my list--I didn't quite get that
filing done. I guess I'm in for it, hunhh?"
Omigod, I realized as she handed me the transgression list and my handy wooden
ruler. There is just no rest for the weary.
END